


Twenty Years with You

by Multiple_Universes



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ice Dancing, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Sweethearts, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up Together, Inspired by Scott Moir and Tessa Virtue, Little Katsuki Yuuri, Little Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Olympics, Pining, Romantic Tension, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-07-03 12:44:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 135,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15819129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multiple_Universes/pseuds/Multiple_Universes
Summary: Little Yuuri Katsuki has a dream - to compete in ice dancing with another figure skater and, so, one day the legendary ice pair Yuuri Katsuki and Victor Nikiforov is formed. This is their story...





	1. First Steps

**Author's Note:**

> My hiatus is finally over!
> 
> I know that Tessa and Scott get bothered with this question all the time and that they’re not actually married, or dating, but I need an ice dancing AU for Victuuri in my life and I thought that their career would make for a good backbone for a fic. Just take this as my love letter to Tessa and Scott for how awesome their skating is. If you don't know who Tessa and Scott are, that's okay: there will be links to videos of them skating in the future.
> 
> I confess I've been waiting for someone to write an AU based on Tessa and Scott's career ever since the show ended, but for some reason no one did (or maybe they did and I didn't see it?). Anyway, here's to writing the fic you want to read...

Imagine a traveller going down a small country road that leads up north from a medium-sized city, through fields and farms, seemingly into nowhere when a sign appears, marking the beginning of a village named Ilderton. Imagine, then, that they picked the _right_ morning of the _right_ month and the _right_ year. Imagine that this traveller had some reason, some excuse to stop by the Ilderton Arena and Curling Club, then this hypothetical traveller would witness a truly historical moment and not even know it.

_Little Yuuri Katsuki was taking his first figure skating lesson._

Yuuri was very small, but the chance to go out on the ice and shuffle around in a pair of skates excited him. He stayed upright through most of his lesson, much to his mother’s delight.

Hiroko Katsuki, eager to find a pastime for her son drove him to the Arena all the way from London, while her daughter, Mari, took more advanced skating lessons on the other side of the rink.

Hiroko stood by the boards, ready to run to her son if he fell and hurt himself, but there had been no reason for her to panic yet.

Yuuri was very sensitive to the cold and the Arena got freezing on most days. Knowing this, Hiroko made him wear big wool mittens that itched terribly.

“Look, mama!” Yuuri called after going five whole meters and not falling. “I can skate!”

“Yes, you can!” she exclaimed and laughed to herself.

“Is that boy yours?” a voice asked, making Hiroko turn her head.

She stared at a tall woman with long blonde hair who looked like she spent most of her life doing intensive training. Hiroko herself was short and a little plump. When the two women stood side by side they contrasted greatly with each other.

Hiroko took to her right away. “Yes, that’s my youngest – Yuuri. My daughter Mari is in the other class. Hiroko Katsuki,” she introduced herself, remembering to say her last name second.

The woman beamed as if the name was great news to her. “Svetlana Nikiforova, just moved here from Ottawa with my family. My brother is in charge of the rink and he wants me to take care of the children’s skating lessons.” She held out her hand. “So you’ll be seeing me a lot,” she added, not realizing how true the statement would turn out to be.

Hiroko smiled pleasantly. “We moved to London recently too,” she admitted. “We used to live in Japan, but then my husband’s job moved and we all came with him.” She gave a sad sigh. “I always thought I’d inherit the family onsen and spend the rest of my life running it.”

“Onsen?” Svetlana repeated, mispronouncing the word. “What’s an onsen?”

“It’s a hot spring,” Hiroko explained.

“Oh,” Svetlana made a sympathetic face and then burst out laughing. “So you traded a hot spring for an ice rink?”

Hiroko couldn’t help but smile at the little joke. “Yes, I suppose I have.”

Yuuri’s mother spoke quietly and was reserved while Svetlana was loud and very emotional. With every minute the differences between the two women just seemed to pile up.

“Now where is that boy?” Svetlana’s voice boomed, making Hiroko jump and everyone in the rink turn to look.

“What boy?” Hiroko asked.

“My nephew,” Svetlana explained. “He’s always off somewhere, slacking off and skipping his lessons. He says he wants to be a hockey player one day.” There was a note of disappointment in her voice, as if she didn’t approve of this goal for some reason.

Hiroko nodded in approval, not knowing what to say to that.

Svetlana shrugged. “So many five-year-olds do.” She excused herself and hurried off to the change room, shouting, “Victor!” at the top of her voice.

Yuuri’s lesson ended and the boy rushed back to his mother’s side. “We’ll come back tomorrow, right mama?” he asked.

“Of course we will,” she promised.

Hiroko then did an unpardonable thing: she took both her children home right away.

Five minutes after her car left Ilderton Svetlana returned with Victor to introduce him to her new friend, only to find that she’d gone.

 

Victor Nikiforov wanted to be a professional hockey player, not knowing that fate had something else in store for him. He dreamed of becoming famous and appearing on posters. He dreamed of making that legendary goal that won the game.

He had several posters already of the big hockey stars over the last few decades and collected hockey cards as best as he could.

Victor had two older brothers who loved to play hockey. Peter was two years older than him and Paul – four years. They were also signed up for figure skating lessons. Two of Victor’s cousins were slowly becoming small figure skating stars. Maybe that was why his parents kept insisting they all go on taking figure skating lessons.

“Victor!” his father called.

He lay on his bed, quiet as a mouse. _I’m not here,_ he thought, _I’m somewhere else and I can’t hear him._

He didn’t want to go. Figure skating was no fun, not like hockey. His aunt would show him a jump and by the end of the lesson he’d get it. Where was the challenge in that? It wasn’t like hockey where everyone competed for who would get the most points.

Victor could already jump a single axel. He could skate fast. What more did they want?

“Victor! It’s time for your lesson!” his mother called.

He sat up, clutching the pillow to his chest. Not again. But he had to go. He knew he had to go and there was no avoiding that.

Thirty minutes later he was out on the ice, going fast with a smile on his face and his hair streaming behind him, his worries seemingly forgotten. It was always like this: before he went out he didn’t want to figure skate ever again, but out on the ice his heart filled with a sudden thrill that took him over and made him forget all his misgivings.

He could feel people watching him and jumped the single axel, landing gracefully and swinging his arms around.

“Victor!” his aunt called out as she joined him on the ice. “I think it’s time to learn the double axel.”

He nodded obediently.

Maybe there was nothing bad about doing a bit of skating now and concentrating only on hockey later, he thought. Wasn’t there a hockey player who started out as a figure skater anyway?

But when his aunt started to explain the double axel he found his attention wandering to the other side of the rink where a little boy was making spirals out on the ice.

He was so small that even Victor, who was the smallest in his family, would’ve towered over him if they stood side by side. The boy skated closer and Victor reconsidered that. Maybe they weren’t that different in heights after all.

The stranger was in a yellow sweater with a big Y on the front and a pair of big mittens on his hands.

Victor saw his brother, Peter, skate over to the boy and talk to him. He got a shy response from the little boy.

Now Peter really _did_ tower over the stranger. He was taller than Victor and even a bit taller than Paul, who was older than him. While Victor and Paul both let their hair grow out, Peter insisted his was cut short, complaining loudly when it started to cover his ears. His face and arms were all covered in freckles, but he acted as if he was proud of the fact, as if they’d appeared at his will.

Peter held out his hands and, to Victor’s surprise, the boy took them with a smile. They went around the ice together, not moving in time with each other but not getting in each other’s way either.

Victor held his breath and waited to see if either of them would stumble over the other.

“Victor!” his aunt called.

He turned away. “Who is Peter skating with?” he asked and felt his eyes get pulled back towards the pair.

“That’s Yuuri,” aunt Svetlana answered as if she’d expected Victor to know that already. “Doesn’t he look great with our Peter?”

“He’s too small to skate with Peter,” Victor said, facing his aunt once more and promising himself not to stare any longer.

“That’s what I thought when I first saw them,” Svetlana admitted, “but they really enjoy skating together.”

Victor couldn’t help it: he snuck another glance at the pair. He watched the way their faces glowed with enjoyment when they skated side by side and how they held each other’s hands tightly, as if afraid that their fingers might accidentally slip free.

People stopped what they were doing to watch the young pair go around on the ice.

 

Yuuri enjoyed skating with Peter. There was a sense of security in staying by the boy’s side that Yuuri couldn’t really explain.

Peter picked Yuuri up, lost his balance and they both fell over.

Maybe not _that much_ security, but Yuuri giggled happily anyway. He couldn’t help it.

Peter got up and helped Yuuri up to his feet. They continued together around the rink.

Peter was nice. He’d approached Yuuri one day, offering to teach him a neat trick, and, instead, he pulled Yuuri around the rink with him.

Yuuri knew Peter was just being silly and having fun, but one morning he’d accidentally caught the broadcast of an ice dancing competition and the sight planted a little dream in the boy’s mind and, so, when his teacher asked him to write about his career in the future, Yuuri had his answer ready.

 

Yuuri was intelligent and picked things up quickly. He went to first grade, but he was far ahead of his class, so much so that halfway into the year his teacher called Hiroko to come to her office for a talk.

“I worry Yuuri is bored,” she admitted.

Hiroko sat up straighter in the chair. When the teacher had called her she’d panicked, worried that Yuuri had done something wrong. She hadn’t expected praise.

“He’s really just very shy,” Hiroko hastened to reassure her.

The teacher smiled. “I noticed that, but Yuuri knows everything for my class. He knows every answer ahead of time and I worry that if he gets bored he’ll find a different outlet for his energy.”

Hiroko had no worries on this account. “Yuuri goes to ballet classes twice a week, dance classes twice a week and skating lessons three times a week. I do my best to keep him busy.” She beamed proudly. “And all the teachers praise him.”

The teacher’s face spread in a smile, as if this put all her worries to rest. “That explains the strange thing he wrote, then.”

“What strange thing?” Hiroko asked, worry creeping back into her voice.

“Every year I ask my students what they want to do when they grow up. Most of them want to be firemen or teachers. Do you know what your son wrote?”

Hiroko had a sneaking suspicion that she knew what she was about to hear. “What?”

The teacher found Yuuri’s notebook on the table and opened it to the first page. “ _My dream_ ,” she read, “ _is to go to the Olympics with Peter Nikiforov and win a gold medal in ice dancing._ ”

It was hard not to smile at that. “He really likes figure skating,” Hiroko explained.

The teacher had nothing more to add to that. Yuuri needed a challenge, she thought, but with the schedule Hiroko had come up with for him, he was already getting one, she was sure.

Yuuri was much more mature than his classmates. His teacher was sure that whatever he put his mind to he would succeed in it, without a doubt.

 

Yuuri, on the other hand, thought differently. He was smaller than his classmates and felt slower than them. He studied things ahead of time, afraid he’d embarrass himself with the wrong answer in front of everyone. When he found out that the class would go for a skating field trip in September, he asked his mother to increase the number of lessons from one to three, knowing it was hard to drive him there, but too scared of how the trip with his class would go, to leave it at that.

But Yuuri’s teacher was right: what Yuuri really needed was a constant challenge.

 

Yuuri skated around the ice, throwing looks at the door. There was no lesson that day, but that didn’t matter: he knew the Nikiforov boys would be here anyway and waited patiently for them to arrive. Or, to be more precise, for a _certain_ Nikiforov boy to arrive.

The sound of the door opening made him spin around so fast he nearly lost his balance.

Seeing it was just Victor, Yuuri turned away in disappointment.

Time went on. He lost count of the number of spirals he drew out on the ice before Peter finally joined him.

Beaming from ear to ear, Yuuri sped across the ice towards him. “Peter!” he called out.

The boy gave him an odd look. “Hello, Yuuri.”

Yuuri stopped a few steps away. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

“No, I just…” Peter gave a half shrug. “I signed up for the school’s hockey team, so I’m dropping out of figure skating lessons.”

“Oh.” Yuuri’s shoulders dropped in defeat. Of course. How could he have been so selfish? How could he have assumed that someone as interesting as Peter would want to spend the rest of his life out on the ice with a boring person like him?

“Sorry,” Peter mumbled. “I really like skating with you, but I just like hockey more, you know?”

Yuuri nodded. He felt tears rise to his eyes and bit his lips. He wasn’t going to blub like a little boy. He just wasn’t.

“One more time around the rink?” Peter suggested. “As a goodbye?”

“But you’re not going anywhere, are you?” Yuuri asked. He wasn’t ready to lose his friend completely like this.

Peter grinned. “Not really. Now we get to fight each other for the rink.” He caught Yuuri by both hands. “You’ll have to find someone else to skate with,” he suggested softly.

Yuuri slid closer and shook his head. “No,” he said, “I’m going to be a singles skater.”

Peter just shrugged.

They drew a circle around Victor, knowing there was someone there, but not really noticing who it was, and Peter released Yuuri.

“And now I get to tell you to get off my rink,” Peter said with a wicked gleam in his eye. “Unless you want to play hockey with us.”

Yuuri skated to the boards, throwing one last glance at Peter, but the boy was already deep in conversation with his two brothers. None of them even bothered to spare the little skater a glance.

He took his skates off and went outside to wait for his mother to come and pick him up. (Hiroko had come to an agreement months before that either Svetlana or one of Victor’s parents would come pick Yuuri up from school to drive him to the Arena for practice and Hiroko would then take him home.)

When Yuuri got home at last, he locked himself away and refused to speak with anyone.

At the age of six Yuuri became convinced that his dream wasn’t going to come true.


	2. Two Boyfriends

That summer there were no long, lazy hot days that typically make up a summer. There were hot days, this was true, but every minute was filled with something to do.

Yuuri, who’d gotten used to getting pulled into games with the kids in his neighbourhood, or climbing trees and scraping his knees, found himself in a summer camp that combined his two favourite things – ballet and figure skating.

It didn’t matter that everyone was four or five years older than him or that they were all so much better than he was at figure skating and ballet – he got his deepest wish granted.

Mirrors lined the walls, making the room feel much bigger than it really was and at once filling it with dozens more people. Light, airy music played as a teacher called out instructions. Everyone’s right arm was raised at the same time. Every leg moved in the same way at a single command, every chin rose. Smiles filled the room. In the mirrors the dancers moved gracefully with everyone in the room. Fingers curved delicately and eyes remained lowered.

The door burst open and Victor came in, laughing loudly.

The music stopped and everyone turned to stare.

Yuuri watched the teacher tell Victor off for coming late and being so disruptive. It came as a big surprise that the boy felt no embarrassment about his behaviour whatsoever. It didn’t bother him that he was getting told off in front of everyone. He acted as if it was perfectly natural.

The teacher stuck him at the front of the class where she could keep an eye on him and Victor ended up next to Yuuri.

Victor was a great skater. Yuuri often noticed as much. In fact, he was better than a fair portion of their class, despite them all being so much older. And Yuuri, who hated losing, who didn’t want to be the worst just because he was the youngest, worked hard to catch up.

He saw Victor give him a wink and wondered what it meant.

No, no he couldn’t let himself get distracted so easily! He had to focus! He had to –

Victor was purposefully doing the opposite to what everyone else was: raising his left arm instead of his right, moving backwards instead of forwards. He knocked into someone and turned around. But, instead of apologizing, he just gave a bow.

Yuuri couldn’t help it: he burst out laughing.

The teacher towered over Victor and rewarded him with a long rant, but still Yuuri couldn’t stop giggling.

In the end, both of them got kicked out of the classroom.

“Sorry about that,” Victor said and it was obvious that he wasn’t sorry at all.

Yuuri smiled back. “That’s alright.”

“Victor,” the introduction came, three years too late.

“I know.” Yuuri lowered his eyes and shuffled his feet. “I’m Yuuri.”

“Nice to meet you, Yuuri.” Victor took his hand and shook it, making Yuuri laugh again. “Let’s go somewhere else,” Victor suggested.

“But the teacher told us to stay here…” Yuuri tried to protest.

“Did she? Then we have to go right now!” Victor insisted.

He slipped away down the hall and Yuuri found himself following behind. He couldn’t explain why he was doing what Victor said. He was supposed to obey the teacher’s instructions, he knew, but he also wanted to know what Victor would do next.

Victor peered into different rooms, opening doors and sticking his head in each time. But they were full of people taking different dancing classes and all Victor got for his efforts were more yells directed at him.

Only with a great deal of difficulty did Yuuri manage to talk Victor into going outside.

It was a warm sunny day. The kind of day many people dream about on long winter evenings. The sun shone in a clear blue sky, but not too much and not too brightly. A gentle breeze helped make sure it wouldn’t get too hot.

The boys stepped out and stopped uncertainly.

“What do you want to do now?” Victor asked.

_Go back_ , Yuuri thought miserably.

But Victor answered his own question and dragged Yuuri off to his friend’s house so he could call some more friends for them all to play hockey.

 

That evening Yuuri came home, covered in bruises, but with a happy smile on his face.

After that day Victor would invite Yuuri with him and his friends almost every evening.

Yuuri was shy and barely talked to the other boys, but he and Victor got close very quickly.

 

Hiroko was cooking dinner in the kitchen when the doorbell rang. She dropped everything and rushed to answer it, knowing everyone else couldn’t hear the ringing.

Svetlana stood on her doorstep with a big smile. “I’m here to pick up my nephew,” she announced. “I hope he hasn’t given you too much trouble.”

“Trouble?” Hiroko laughed. “On no! Not at all.” She closed the door behind her guest and invited her into the house. “They’re out back.”

Svetlana followed Hiroko, launching into a long and very loud apology for whatever new nonsense Victor had done this time.

Hiroko stopped and motioned her to be silent.

Svetlana’s mouth closed as her eyebrows rose in amazement.

Why was Hiroko silencing her?

Both women walked into the kitchen and Hiroko motioned carefully at the window that looked over her backyard.

Svetlana peered out and everything became clear. Her face spread in a big smile.

The two boys sat with their heads bent close, whispering something to each other.

Yuuri sat back and gave Victor a look that was full of more openness than Svetlana had ever seen in any face before.

Svetlana knew Yuuri wasn’t good at making friends and she knew that despite that he spent most of his time with Victor. She wondered then if Victor knew this.

Her eyes met Hiroko’s. “They’re like two sweethearts, aren’t they?” she whispered, doing her best to keep her voice down.

“Aren’t they too young for that?” Hiroko whispered back.

Yuuri would turn seven in a few months and a month later Victor would turn nine. Whether or not they were too young for love, they definitely looked like a young couple.

And then the wind carried the words in through the window, “It will be our little secret,” Victor promised.

Yuuri nodded.

Hiroko motioned Svetlana to go back to the living room, prepared to give her breakfast, lunch, dinner, tea, anything she wanted so the boys could have more time together.

But, before she could offer anything, Yuuri raised his head and spotted Svetlana’s face in the window. He slipped off the bench. “You need to go home,” he told Victor.

“Aww! Do I?” Victor whined. “Can’t I stay here?” Even as he protested, Victor rose to his feet, knowing perfectly well what Yuuri’s answer would be. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah…” Yuuri nodded.

Svetlana, unable to contain herself any further, burst out to join the two boys. “Look at you two! Did you get married while I was away?” she asked with a wink.

“Wh-what?” Yuuri stammered out. “No, we didn’t!” he protested.

“I know, I know, I’m just teasing.” She picked Yuuri up and spun him around.

The boy squealed happily.

“Me next!” Victor demanded, reaching up with his hands.

Svetlana set Yuuri down. Then she gave both boys a critical look. “You really look good together, like a real couple.”

Yuuri and Victor exchanged puzzled looks.

Laughing and assuring them that it was nothing, Svetlana led her nephew out. Yuuri stared after them, not saying a word.

 

By the middle of August Victor took his hockey posters down and talked about becoming a figure skater.

Now Victor barely spent any time with his Ilderton friends, his cousins or his brothers, preferring Yuuri’s company over all of theirs.

Often, in the evening, when Hiroko would come to pick her son up from Victor’s house, or when Svetlana came to pick up her nephew, they’d find the two boys sitting up in a tree, talking in a whisper.

What secret could a six and eight year old have? And, yet, Svetlana couldn’t coax the subject of their conversations out of Victor. All she could do was laugh and make jokes about love confessions.

“Alright,” Svetlana called, standing under the tree with her hands on her hips, “say goodbye to your boyfriend!”

The joke had stuck and, for some reason, both boys went along with it.

“Good night, Yuuri,” Victor said and leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek.

With no hint of embarrassment whatsoever, Yuuri returned the kiss in the same way and the boys climbed down.

 

“Paul! Paul!” Victor called, knocking on his brother’s door, demanding to be let in. The knocking got louder and more irritating with each passing minute.

The oldest of the Nikiforov siblings rolled his eyes. There was no getting rid of Victor until he got what he wanted. Muttering a curse under his breath, he walked over to his door and opened it.

“What do you want?”

Victor burst into his room, swept past his brother and flopped onto his bed. “I need help, Paul! I’m really in trouble this time!”

Closing the door and pulling a chair over to drop into, Paul asked, “What did you do this time?” He wondered if he would have to go talk to his parents himself and rolled his eyes a second time. He never enjoyed that kind of thing.

“I have a boyfriend,” Victor announced as if this was a great secret, “but I don’t know how to _be_ a boyfriend.”

“Is that what it is?” Paul asked.

Paul was thirteen, which – from Peter and Victor’s point of view – made him really old. Naturally, this meant that Victor and Peter teased him about his age incessantly while, in return, he called them little babies. He considered himself the wisest and most mature of the three siblings and was convinced that everyone else thought the same thing. What Paul didn’t know was that his own rebellious phase was creeping up behind him ready to grab him by the throat.

“Well…” Paul said, dragging the word out to give himself more time to think. “I call my girlfriend every day. You can do that. Mom says I should get her chocolates and flowers, but I’m saving up my allowance for something else.”

Victor frowned. He barely had a dollar. The most he could hope to get for that much was a chocolate bar or a packet of gum. But phone calls were free, so he decided to give one a try.

“And what do I say?” he asked, feeling instinctively that their usual conversation topics weren’t the right ones for a phone call with a boyfriend.

Paul shrugged. “I dunno… Whatever. I say something nice. Like compliments,” he added, suspecting that Victor would misinterpret this.

That sounded easy enough.

For some reason five minutes later when the phone pressed to Victor’s ear was ringing it was very hard to think of something to say.

Paul stood next to him for moral support.

“Um… Hello, Yuuri. It’s me.”

“Hello, Victor.”

They sat in silence. Yuuri waited for Victor to say something. Victor tried to remember what Paul had said.

“Compliment him,” Paul whispered.

“I know!” Victor mouthed back. “I was just…” he fiddled with the phone chord. “I just wanted to tell you that you’re good at ballet.”

“Th-thank you,” Yuuri stammered back.

At that all the conversation topics seemed to be exhausted. They sat in silence and Victor reflected that talking to a boyfriend was very exhausting. It was much better talking to Yuuri when he was just a friend.

 

The next day during camp Victor found it even harder to talk to Yuuri. He wanted to show him a fascinating beetle he found, but did boyfriends talk about bugs? He wasn’t sure and he didn’t want to go ask Paul again.

Victor, who enjoyed rebelling and breaking the rules, was suddenly really keen to be a proper boyfriend. He held Yuuri’s hand when they walked. He snuck cookies and different sweets out of the kitchen to wrap clumsily in paper from past birthdays and holidays so he could give Yuuri presents.

Yuuri gave him stuff in return, but, for some reason, it was always wrapped much better than Victor’s presents and, so Victor tried harder, adding different coloured bows and covering the paper with stickers.

And then summer was over and the school year started much too early for Victor. It just wasn’t fair. Summer vacation had to go on forever and ever, or, at least, until he turned nine in December.

“I’ll call you every day,” Victor promised on the last day of their camp.

Yuuri smiled and promised he’d call too. He had in his hand a flower Victor had found for him in the field that morning.

But phone calls got harder and harder as Victor found less and less to talk about and it didn’t help that Yuuri was quiet too.

 

Victor talked about Yuuri at school, telling his friends about “his skating friend from London”. As if to compensate for not being able to talk _to_ Yuuri, Victor went on about him, telling people all the important things – his favourite colour, his favourite pastimes and his favourite songs. He could go on for hours if no one stopped him.

“It’s always “Yuuri this” and “Yuuri that”,” one of Victor’s friends complained, cutting him off just as he got into his stride. “I don’t want to hear about this stupid Yuuri. What do I care what he likes or thinks?”

Victor didn’t bother with a lot of words after that, settling for his arms and legs to explain how he felt instead.

The teachers had to pull them apart and sent both boys to the office. They didn’t even bother asking why the fight had started, giving both boys detention, no matter how much Victor’s friend protested that he’d done nothing wrong.

Victor came home late with bruises all over his arms and legs. His shirt was torn, but what did he care about little details like that?

His mother stepped out of the kitchen and took him in from head to toe. Gone were the days when she would run to him and ask if he was okay. Her expression was stern. “Victor, what did I say about getting into fights in school? How many times have I told you that there are always peaceful solutions to each argument?”

Victor grumbled something incoherent, knowing all too well that none of the grownups would understand. They never understood. He folded his arms over his chest and puffed out his cheeks.

His mother sat him down in the kitchen and lectured him. Then his father returned from work and both parents showered him with questions.

Why did Victor get into a fight this time? They both really wanted to know.

Victor kept his mouth closed and just shook his head. He was afraid that if he said the truth, Yuuri would get grounded too and they wouldn’t be allowed to be friends anymore.

Of course, they grounded Victor afterwards. What else would they do? But he locked himself in his room and sat by the window, staring out at the moon and congratulated himself on staying strong in the name of love.

What did it matter if he got no dessert for a week? Yuuri was more important than sweets, anyway!

 

Two days later the two boyfriends met up after another skating lesson and walked to Victor’s house together, hand in hand.

“Mom signed me up for Test Day,” Yuuri admitted after a long pause.

Victor nodded in approval. Test Day was where young skaters were tested against Skate Canada’s standards. It helped pick skaters out at a young age.

“I’m really nervous,” Yuuri went on. “What if I fall over and embarrass myself?”

“You won’t!” Victor gave a dismissive wave, as if the matter wasn’t even worth arguing over. “It’s very easy: you just skate around and do a few jumps.”

Yuuri sighed. “It’s easy for you,” he said, “you’re one of the best skaters in the Arena.”

“I’m not!” Victor protested with a laugh.

“You are,” Yuuri insisted.

“If I’m the best, then so are you,” Victor told him. Yuuri tried to protest, but Victor refused to listen to a single word. “One day,” he said, “you and I will compete against each other out on the ice, you’ll see.”

Yuuri said nothing to that. The possibility hadn’t even occurred to him before then.

 

Fall faded to winter and Yuuri, who’d done well on Test Day, competed in regional singles against Victor, just as the boy had predicted.

The regional competition was full of kids, most of who were at least two years older than Victor. They’d come from all around Ilderton and the neighbouring towns and they’d all brought their parents with them. It had come as a surprise to both Yuuri and Victor that there were so many young figure skaters out there.

Both Yuuri and Victor’s families had come along, of course. Svetlana was there as the boys’ coach. She shouted louder than most of the audience during the warmup.

“…Next we have Victor Nikiforov from Ilderton!”

Polite applause followed that announcement. Victor’s parents shouted as loud as they could, trying to make their words of encouragement heard.

Victor skated out onto the ice with an embarrassed grin. He was in a leather jacket that was just a little too big for him and a pair of jeans that were too baggy – the very image of a young rebel.

Loud rock music played and Victor skated to the beat, making little mistakes here and there, but getting so caught up in the song that it didn’t really matter. The audience, won over by this show of enthusiasm, clapped along until the very end.

Mrs. Nikiforov laughed at the sight of her son’s beaming face.

“We’ll make a figure skater of him yet,” Mr. Nikiforov promised.

“Vitya! Do a flip!” Peter shouted.

And, to everyone’s amazement, Victor did a backwards flip, making his family laugh so hard that there were tears in Mrs. Nikiforov’s eyes.

Someone brought Victor flowers and he accepted them with a sheepish grin. Then, spotting Yuuri about to step out onto the ice, he sped over to the boy to hand the flowers to him with a peck on the cheek.

A chorus of loud “awws!” filled the Arena.

“And we already have a son-in-law,” Mr. Nikiforov told his wife.

“I like Yuuri,” she said, “he’s a good boy.”

“Better get ready for the wedding, then,” Mr. Nikiforov said and it was hard to tell by his tone and his face if he was serious or joking.

Yuuri handed the flowers to Svetlana, bracing himself for going out on the ice.

She gave him her usual motivational speech, but he found that he couldn’t understand a word of it this time.

The boy stood at the centre of all that attention and tried not to think about how nervous he was or how his family was all there and watching (and sitting right next to Victor’s family too!). Victor thrived on attention, but Yuuri found that it made everything so much harder. He closed his eyes and breathed in, remembering Svetlana’s advice from before.

They were all watching. All of them. He would disappoint them all and…

“Yuuri!” Victor shouted. “I got you more flowers!”

He opened his eyes, turned his head and saw Victor wave two bouquets of flowers, one in each hand, and grinned.

The music began and Yuuri danced, throwing looks at Victor from time to time. Twice he stumbled, once he fell, but he got up and kept going.

Slowly the audience’s cheers faded into the background, as if they were merely part of the music. It was just him and the ice.

The blood rushed through his body. His heart beat faster. He jumped, his body turned as if on its own and he landed perfectly.

The music got faster and he sped up to match it. He spun on the ice with one hand raised over his head, feeling like one of those skaters he’d seen on TV.

He was skating! He was…

The music ended and he froze in his final pose.

…a real skater.

The Arena filled with the sound of applause, startling him. He’d forgotten all about the audience and this reminder came as an unpleasant surprise.

He remembered that he had to bow and bent his back.

Svetlana shouted something and he felt his ears go red.

“Yuuri!” Victor shouted, hurrying out onto the ice towards him. “Yuuri!” he exclaimed again, closer now. “Yuuri!” He grabbed the boy by both hands and spun him around on the ice. “That was great!”

He felt as if something released him and laughed until his face hurt.

Neither of them won that competition, but what did that matter when they both had so much fun?

_I want to keep competing,_ Yuuri thought during the ride home. _It doesn’t matter how well I do. I want to go on competing on the ice!_

But, just as Yuuri was starting to think that, maybe, his dream of skating with someone could still come true, Victor made a strange phone call.

It was a cold winter evening and Yuuri was doing his homework in his room when the phone rang.

He heard his mother answer it and then heard her calling out his name. “Yuuri! It’s Victor! He wants to talk to you!”

He rushed to take the phone from her hands, stumbling down the stairs. “Yes?” he asked as soon as he pressed the receiver to his ear. “Hello, Victor!”

“Yuuri, I… I don’t want to go out with you anymore!” Victor exclaimed, getting all the words out in a single breath, and hung up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on the age difference: I realized I made a typo in the previous chapter, but in this AU Victor and Yuuri are only 2 years apart. I was going to keep their original age difference, but then I thought that it would be awkward for both of them until they became adults, so in this AU Victor is two years older than Yuuri.  
> As always, I’m trying to do a million things at once, which basically means that I don’t know what the updates for this fic will be like. Every two days? Every three days? I don’t know. How often do you prefer to see updates to a fic? (Also I think this fic will be a long one… We’ll see, I guess.)


	3. A New Partner

_Yuuri’s cheeks were red from the cold. Victor and he walked hand in hand towards Victor’s house where Victor knew a hot cup of tea was waiting for each of them. Hot tea and somewhere warm to sit – what else did anyone need on a cold night?_

_Victor breathed out and looked at the little cloud his breath made with a proud expression on his face._

_Snowflakes tumbled through the air, falling slowly, as if in no hurry to reach the ground. All the distant sounds were muffled so that the only thing Victor could hear was the crunching of snow under their feet. Around them the trees were coated in a thin layer of snow, making them look as if they were all made of sugar._

_“Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if sugar fell out of the sky instead of snow,” Victor admitted._

_Yuuri giggled. “You’d eat all of it.”_

_“So would you!”_

_They laughed the rest of the way home. Despite the wind and the five inches of snow, Victor felt warm and happy._

_It felt good to come home together and even better to sit at a table in the kitchen and drink tea, even if it meant spending forever pulling all the extra layers off._

_Victor grinned across the table at Yuuri, knowing full well that there was jam all over his face._

_Yuuri snorted into his cup._

_Victor screwed up his face and stuck his tongue out._

_The cup nearly fell on the floor as Yuuri burst out laughing._

_If only the snow could fall harder and make it so that Yuuri couldn’t go home! Then Yuuri would have to sleep over and they could stay up late, watching TV and playing games. Victor had so much to tell Yuuri that he knew only the boy would understand. (The grownups never understood.)_

_But, no, Yuuri’s mom came to pick him up as always._

_“Can’t Yuuri stay?” Victor asked, making big puppy eyes at Mrs. Katsuki. “Please? Pretty please? Pretty please with a cherry on top?”_

_“I’m sorry. Yuuri has to go to school tomorrow,” Mrs. Katsuki apologized._

_“You’ll see each other in the evening again,” Victor’s mother reminded him, but it didn’t work. Seeing Yuuri tomorrow evening just wasn’t the same. Why didn’t she understand that?_

_He didn’t bother arguing. He already knew it was just a waste of time. Instead he walked Yuuri to the door, wished him a good night and then watched from the window as Mrs. Katsuki drove his boyfriend away._

_It was very dark outside, making it hard to see anything, but he didn’t leave the window until the car lights disappeared from view._

_“Mama,” Victor began, tearing himself away from the window reluctantly and walking into the kitchen. “Can I marry Yuuri?”_

_She turned away from the stove with a laugh. “You’ll have to ask Yuuri himself. I can’t decide something like that for him.”_

_Victor slid onto one of the kitchen chairs and looked at her. “I mean now, Mama. I know he’ll say yes.” He had no doubts on this subject._

_His mother walked over to him, put her arms around Victor and kissed him on the forehead. “You’re too young, Viten’ka. You’ll have to wait for a few years.”_

_“Why?”_

_“Because that’s the law,” she explained in a serious tone as a smile played on her face. “Children aren’t allowed to get married.”_

_He scrunched up his face. “Seems a bit unfair. Why are adults allowed, then? Why can’t children get married too?”_

_She laughed softly as her hands swept long strands of hair out of his face. “You’ve just met Yuuri. Give yourself more time to get to know him better before you decide you want to get married to him.”_

_Victor raised his head, eyes open wide. “Why? I’ve known Yuuri for a_ whole six months _!” He swung his arms up into the air to show just how long six months were._

_“Still,” she insisted with a laugh. She gave him another kiss on the forehead and released him to return to her stove._

_Victor watched her stir the soup she was cooking. Round and round the big wooden spoon went in one of her hands. He thought about skating around in slow circles._

_“As people grow up, they tend to change,” she went on explaining in that soft voice of hers that Victor always found so soothing. “It won’t be soon, but it will happen.”_

_“But why?” Victor asked. “I don’t want to change. I will always stay as I am.”_

_She turned back to look at him and there was something in her eyes, as if she was seeing him better than anyone else could. “Because it’s just how things are,” she said and it wasn’t an explanation at all. “People meet new people, they go out to different places, they read something, or maybe something happens to them that they have no control over. And they change. Sometimes they only change a little and sometimes they change a lot, but they change.”_

_Victor thought of his first day at school and said nothing._

_“You will change,” his mother said and stared down at her hands, “and so will Yuuri.”_

_For a while they were both silent._

_Victor traced circles out with his finger on the kitchen counter. It was so rare for him to get some time alone with his mother. His brothers were both away, buying new hockey equipment with their father. Soon they would all return and the house would be full of noise once more, but, until then, it was quiet, apart from him and his mother and the ticking of the clock._

_Tick, tock, tick, tock_

_He stared up at the arrow as seconds ticked away. For the first time in his life he felt time trickling away._

_“I don’t want to change,” Victor said softly, “and I don’t want Yuuri to change. I like how we are now. We understand each other perfectly. We have the same favourite books and favourite colours and things!”_

_“I know, Viten’ka,” his mother said._

_“Maybe he won’t change much,” Victor whispered. Then he raised his head and looked at his mother. “What was father like when he was small, mama?”_

_“I don’t know,” she admitted. “When I met him he was nineteen.”_

_Victor sighed. “Did you change a lot, mama?”_

_“A bit.” She walked over to him and put an arm around him. “Don’t get so upset, Viten’ka. I’m sure you and Yuuri will be happy together anyway.”_

_“But what if Yuuri really changes,” Victor said in a horror-filled voice. “What if he doesn’t want to talk to me anymore? What if he decides that he…” he tried to imagine a very different Yuuri, “…likes all those things that I don’t like? What if he wants to play a completely different game, or not play games with me at all?”_

_“You’ll have to work it out,” his mother told him. “And if you_ do _get married, you might still find that the two of you want different things and you’ll have to find a way to make you both happy. It’s called reaching a compromise, Viten’ka.”_

_He stared at her in amazement. “So what if we want the opposite thing?”_

_“You’ll have to think of something,” she told him._

_He heard the garage door open, followed by the sound of a car pulling into the driveway and ran out to greet his brothers._

_They barged in, giving a very excited account of their time in the store, but Victor wasn’t listening. He turned and saw his father go up to his mother with a smile._

_“Hello, dear,” he said._

_She beamed at him and they kissed each other. The wedding ring on his mother’s hand caught the light and Victor turned away._

_“We had Yuuri over today,” his mother said._

_“Oh? And how is my future son-in-law doing?” his father asked._

_Victor sighed. “Good,” he said in a tone that suggested otherwise._

_“Oh dear,” his father said, “that doesn’t sound good at all. Did you two fight?”_

_“No,” Victor answered, feeling as if they had._

_Over the course of the next week every single adult he saw called them lovebirds and suggested that they would marry soon. If before those words would’ve made him beam proudly, now they only made him think._

_When the local newspaper published an article about their competition with a picture of the kiss he gave Yuuri, he decided he’d had enough._

_He was tired of all the jokes and comments. He and Yuuri were better off as friends, he decided, and a sense of relief washed over him. They would just be friends and it would make things a lot easier._

_And he wouldn’t_ have to _marry Yuuri._

 

The day after the fateful phone call, Yuuri didn’t come to the Arena. The boy wasn’t there on the day after that, or in the two days that followed. Victor spent all those days from morning to night at the rink, waiting for Yuuri to come, sometimes skating around and sometimes getting bored of the ice and just sitting in the stands.

Wondering if Yuuri was sick, Victor talked his aunt into driving him to Yuuri’s house.

First he had to wait for all her lessons to end and then, finally, _finally_ , she left the Arena with him at her side and made for her car down the street and in front of her house.

The road to London was full of fields and signs and barely anything else. It was so boring that he made his aunt play a word game with him to help pass the time.

And then a big sign appeared, showing that London started right behind it and he cut the game off.

He stared out the window at London, remembering the first time he’d travelled out this far, beyond the reaches of his little world, only to discover that London wasn’t really all that special and that people didn’t all have skating rinks in their backyards. Of course, that explained why Yuuri travelled so far, but it had still come as a little shock.

Yuuri’s house was like so many others on his street and had no fields or farms surrounding it at all. Victor often wondered how he could live in such a small, closed in space, but not this time. This time he burst out of the car and sprinted up the pathway towards Yuuri’s house, going as fast as his feet would carry him. He rang the bell several times, filled with a sudden sense of urgency.

Hiroko opened the door and an expression of pleased surprise spread over her face. “Hello, Victor!”

“Please, can I talk to Yuuri, please? It’s very urgent, please!” he gasped out, making his face take on a pleading expression that he knew worked most of the time.

“Of course,” she said and stepped out of his way

Victor flew into the house and up the stairs where he knew Yuuri’s room would be.

But once he reached the second floor he froze in uncertainty. Several identical doors threw him off guard and made him stare around in confusion.

“Yuuri?” he called.

“Victor?” A door opened and Yuuri peered through the small gap that it made. “Why are you here?”

“To see you, silly! Why did you stop coming to the Arena?” He walked over to the door and bent his head to the side, trying to take in Yuuri’s face. “Are you sick?”

“Because you said…” Yuuri began and closed the door. “You said you didn’t want to be with me anymore.” His voice sounded muffled through the door with that edge to it that suggested that he was about to cry.

“I meant as a boyfriend,” Victor explained. “I still want to be your friend.”

“Really?” Yuuri opened the door a crack and Victor could make out one eye. “You mean it?”

“Of course I do! Why wouldn’t I?” he asked.

The door swung open all the way this time to show Yuuri standing with his hands behind his back and his eyes all red.

Victor stepped closer. “I want to be your friend,” he assured Yuuri, “your best friend.”

A smile spread over Yuuri’s face and he threw his hands around Victor.

 

They came down several minutes later to find Yuuri’s mother and Victor’s aunt having tea in the kitchen.

“We want to go skate together,” Victor told his aunt.

“It’s late, Victor,” she told him, throwing a glance at the clock on the wall. “You two need to go sleep.”

“I want to skate first!” Victor insisted. “I won’t fall asleep until we get to skate together. Just a little, auntie. Please? Pretty please?”

She sighed. “What do you say to that?” she asked Mrs. Katsuki.

The woman laughed. “Only ten minutes,” she agreed. “Let me get my car. I’ll drive Yuuri back.”

Svetlana helped the two kids get dressed while Hiroko went to check up on Mari and searched for her car keys.

 

After so many days of avoiding the Arena, Yuuri was impatient to go skate again. Victor told him all the Ilderton news on their way there and Yuuri did his best to listen, but all he could think about was how much he longed to be out on the ice.

He ran out of the car as soon as they got there, making straight for the change room. Normally he would’ve waited for Victor to get ready, but this time he threw one quick glance at Victor who was still pulling on his second skate and left.

He went as fast as he could on his skates and nearly fell over twice.

It felt good to be out on the ice again, to go in little circles that got bigger or smaller, depending on his mood.

“Yuuri!” Victor shouted, running out onto the ice after him.

He stopped and waited for Victor to catch up.

“Boys!” Svetlana called out and they both turned to look at her, wondering what she wanted now. “Come here.” She saw them hesitate and motioned at the ice in front of her. “Right here. I want you to stand next to each other.”

They did as she asked. Yuuri stopped next to Victor, wondering if they were supposed to be comparing heights with each other. And, if so, why they were bothering – he already knew that Victor was taller than him.

Victor put a hand at the top of his head and slid it through the air and above Yuuri’s head to prove that, yes, he was the taller one out of the two of them, if only by a little bit. He grinned, as if he’d won a competition.

Svetlana nodded. “Just as I thought.”

Yuuri stared at her in surprise, wondering what a remark like that was supposed to mean.

“Go around the rink together,” she instructed them. “Holding each other’s hands, I mean.”

It wasn’t easy to go side by side like she wanted: both boys kept getting in each other’s way, bumping into one another, but, after a few laps, they started to get the hang of it. They learned to watch each other and anticipate where the other person was going.

Yuuri felt nervous, as if a big crowd of people was watching him. He felt Victor’s fingers close very gently around his own.

He raised his eyes from his feet and met Victor’s gaze. Victor was smiling.

Svetlana clapped her hands, making them both turn their heads. “No, no, you’re not two friends enjoying a day at the skating rink. You need to move like skating _partners_.”

Yuuri lowered his eyes to Victor’s feet and then raised them again to his face. He thought back to his time with Peter, how he’d learned to anticipate his next move, his plans, his –

“Your time is up,” a voice said simply. Everyone turned their heads at the sound of that simple statement and saw Hiroko watching them with an apologetic look in her eyes.

They’d all completely forgotten that she’d come along, forgetting about the lateness of the hour as well as their time allowance in the process.

“You need to go home, Yuuri,” she said, “and Victor.”

They let go of each other as Victor gave a loud “aww!”

Yuuri made for the exit without argument. It wasn’t going to lead to anything. He should’ve known.

Victor caught up with him at the exit. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

Yuuri turned and nodded, doing his best to look like nothing was wrong. “Yeah.” And, maybe because he’d gotten used to it over their six months of dating, or maybe for some other reason, Yuuri put his arms around Victor and gave him a tight hug.

“You two are just so cute together!” Svetlana exclaimed.

The boys let each other go and Victor declared proudly that he and Yuuri were the “bestest of friends”.

Svetlana and Hiroko laughed. “Alright, alright,” Svetlana said to show that she had no doubts whatsoever on the subject.

Both women then undertook the cruel, but necessary task of taking them both home. Needless to say, Victor protested all the way there.

 

Svetlana didn’t explain why, but the next time both boys had a figure skating lesson she made them skate together again.

They had to start with skating as a pair around the rink and then she asked them to do a few simple dance elements.

Victor’s aunt put some music on for them to skate to and watched in approval as they let the music dictate the speed of their movements.

Yuuri carried himself with the grace of a ballet dancer. He remembered to smile like a performer and held his hands out with his fingers carefully arranged. Victor skated like someone looking for approval from the crowd that wasn’t really there. But even this met with Svetlana’s approval.

 

Victor came to the Arena alone that Saturday morning. It was still too early for most people and he had the rink mostly to himself. His brothers would probably play hockey all day, but he didn’t even think about them this time.

Instead, he went around on the ice, throwing impatient looks at the doors.

Where was Yuuri? When would he get here?

Victor had gotten so used to practicing with the boy that skating alone felt odd now.

But Yuuri didn’t appear in the Arena at all that day.

Worse still, when Svetlana arrived she made Victor skate with someone else, but the new boy was awkward on his skates, as if he was skating for the first time in his life. His feet got in Victor’s way and he could barely keep up at all.

In short, it felt all wrong, but, for some reason, Svetlana insisted they keep going.

Victor opened his mouth to argue, took in the expression on the new boy’s face that suggested that he was about to burst out crying, and nodded.

This was practice, he told himself, so he could get better for when he next skated with Yuuri. He had to get better than Yuuri and to do that he would practice as best as he could.

 

The Skating Carnival in Ilderton was a big event that year. All of Victor’s cousins and brothers came to participate. Each person put together a new number just for the event. There were more people than usual in the stalls, making it feel as if it was a province-wide event and not just a local one. Victor and Yuuri went out on the ice as a team, getting a loud happy cheer from their parents.

Dressed in identical acrobat costumes, as if attempting to look the same (a difficult feat, considering that Victor kept his hair long and Yuuri’s was short), the two boys sped around on the ice, made silly faces, stuck out their legs as if to trip each other up and made daring jumps.

The audience roared with laughter, unable to stop.

Victor did a backwards flip and Yuuri jumped over him.

“They really are very good together,” Victor’s father, Alexei, said to Toshiya.

Yuuri’s father smiled pleasantly.

“They should compete together as a team,” Dina, Victor’s mother, suggested. “They have so much potential.”

Hiroko exchanged a glance with her husband. “Surely, they should decide that and not us? Are you suggesting they go on to make a career in figure skating?”

“We’ll take it one year at a time,” Alexei proposed. “It’s not as if we’re committing to a skating career on their behalf. We’re not forcing them to become Olympic athletes.” He looked at each of the parents, trying to guess what their reactions were by the expressions on their faces. “As long as both of them show they’re enjoying it,” he went on, trying to justify his point, “we’ll keep going with it. If Yuuri decides he prefers ballet, he can drop figure skating. If Victor wants to play hockey, or do something completely different, we’ll help him with that.”

Hiroko and Toshiya nodded in approval. They weren’t the kind of parents to force their child to do something against their will. This arrangement suited them perfectly.

“Of course,” Dina added, “they’re showing so much promise, that it will be a shame if they decide to do something else.”

There was no arguing with that.

 

The next day they talked to Svetlana about it and she revealed that she had a completely different concern: she worried that Victor would grow up to be very tall like his parents and that Yuuri would take after his mother and remain short. “And then I’ll have to find them new partners each,” she concluded.

The parents worried about this. They listened to both boys insist that the dating was well and truly over, but they felt instinctively how heart-broken both of them would be if they couldn’t go on skating together.

“What will happen to our Viten’ka, if he can’t skate with Yuuri anymore?” Dina asked, looking ready to cry.

“One year at a time,” Alexei repeated. “We won’t plan for the far off future today. How can we know what it will hold?” He put an arm around Dina and pulled her close.

This time they’d gathered in the change room while all the kids got a free hour to skate whatever they wished. There were even some adults out on the ice with them.

“I know how to keep them motivated,” Svetlana promised. “It will be alright, you’ll see.”

“What are you planning?” Hiroko asked, her curiosity piqued.

“I’ll sign them up for the Western Ontario sectionals. They’ll compete with skaters older than them, so it will make for a good challenge. It will help them grow as a team.”

The conversation mostly over, they made their way back to the rink to watch their children skate.

“Do you have a routine in mind already?” Alexei asked Svetlana as they got to the boards.

“I was thinking of getting them to try swing dancing,” Svetlana admitted and stared in amazement at the ice, unable to add anything else.

Having no lessons to get in their way, everyone defaulted to the usual skating around in a boring circle that so many people prefer. Some skaters went backwards, some went as fast as they could, making sudden stops just to show that they could. One or two skaters practiced their favourite jumps.

Victor and Yuuri held hands and moved together, two extremely happy grins lighting up their faces. They stopped together, exchanged a conspiratorial look and then Victor put his arms around Yuuri, tried to pick him up, failed and fell over.

Every skater in the Arena turned to watch two boys lying on the ice and laughing as hard as they could.

The parents couldn’t keep from smiling at the sight.

“I will do my best,” Svetlana promised as if about to attempt something very difficult.

Then, with the usual clap of her hands, she went out onto the ice to stand over them. “I have great news for you two,” she said.

They stopped laughing and scrambled up to their feet, doing their best to brush the snow off their clothes.

“What is it?” Victor asked.

Yuuri lowered his eyes and then raised them again to meet Svetlana’s stare.

“I found a competition for you two to join!” she announced. “You have a month to learn a new routine before you go out before the judges. What do you think? Will you do it?”

As one, the boys nodded, the expressions on their faces completely serious.

Yuuri felt a pang of nervousness: another competition meant more expectations and he didn’t want to let anyone down. He hoped he could make everyone happy and proud with his skating.

Victor straightened up confidently. He and Yuuri would win this competition, he was sure of it and he was prepared to try as hard as he could to make sure that they did.

Svetlana left the ice, feeling a new wave of energy and excitement. She would make sure that by the end of the competition everyone would see how good the new team was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life seems to have its own plans, so updates are going to get slow...


	4. The First Competition

Svetlana was at the wheel of her car, finding it hard to focus on the road. Not only was it mostly empty, but the back seat promised something much more interesting.

Her two pupils sat side by side, on their way to their first competition as a pair. Yuuri fiddled with the zipper of his jacket while Victor talked excitedly about how much he wanted to compete.

“And there’s going to be lots and lots of people in the stands!” he added. It really bothered him that he always had to skate in front of mostly empty stands.

There was a shot pause. Svetlana kept her eyes determinedly at the truck in front of her.

“What’s wrong?” Victor asked.

“I’m… I’m a little scared,” Yuuri admitted.

Svetlana glanced at the rear-view mirror and saw Victor put his arms around Yuuri. “Are you scared now?”

“No,” Yuuri admitted. “Thank you.”

“Mom always says that hugs make everything better,” Victor said in a tone of voice that made Svetlana smile.

“They do,” Yuuri agreed.

“Well, you can have one whenever you like,” Victor promised, “you just have to ask.”

Svetlana nearly missed their turn, but went on grinning nonetheless.

“Next time I want my own costume,” Victor said, changing the conversation topic. A quick glance told Svetlana that the boys had let each other go. “It will be the bestest and shiniest costume ever!”

Svetlana made a mental note of this.

Both boys were really bothered by having to wear someone else’s costume. It didn’t matter that Victor’s cousins had won a couple of competitions in it, they wanted costumes of their own. The boys didn’t say any of this to their parents, but Svetlana saw how their faces had fallen when she’d told them what their costumes would be.

There was a hint of that disappointment when they got to the change room and they had put the costumes on a second time. Victor tugged at his sequined shirt, frowning at the places where it was obvious that the sequins had fallen off. Next to him Yuuri was doing the same thing.

Svetlana resisted the urge to tell them to stop fiddling with their costumes and tried to focus instead on preparing them for going out onto the ice.

 

In the stands the parents got ready to watch. They were really enjoying themselves. Dina and Hiroko had prepared some snacks for them. Toshiya poured them cups of tea out of a thermos. Alexei was telling them about his own skating back when he was growing up. He managed to get the attention of several parents sitting around him as he got more and more enthusiastic.

“There they are!” Dina exclaimed as soon as all the competing skaters went out on the ice. She clapped along with everyone else and giggled.

Alexei looked at her and then back at them. “What is it? What’s so funny?”

She did her best to stifle it. “I can’t help it,” she admitted. “They’re just so cute!”

The other three parents chuckled along. Hiroko put her hands on her cheeks, beaming with joy.

“Sh!” Alexei motioned at them to calm down. “Don’t let them see you laughing, or they’ll get the wrong idea.”

The parents put their hands over their mouths, feeling like a group of schoolkids caught doing something wrong, but as soon as their children left the ice to make way for the first contestants they burst into giggles again.

“We need to remember to take lots of pictures after they’re done,” Hiroko said.

Toshiya held up a camera. “I will try to get some now,” he promised, but they weren’t sitting very close, so he knew that most of his photos would turn out blurry and incomprehensible.

When it was Yuuri and Victor’s turn to go out on the ice they were too focused on moving to the beat to notice that their parents were having a hard time keeping their laughter under control.

The first half went well, but then came the second half and the routine began to fall apart. They’d been so very nearly in synch until that point that the sudden change was very noticeable. Yuuri was doing one thing and Victor – another.

“Oh no!” Hiroko exclaimed. “Victor’s forgotten his steps!” Out of the four parents she’d seen the most practices and knew how the dance was supposed to go.

Yuuri tried to follow Victor’s steps to cover up his blunder, but since neither of them knew what he would do next, it didn’t make things any better.

Finally the music ended. They bowed, looking really embarrassed.

Alexei and Dina cheered as loudly as they could. Next to them Hiroko and Toshiya waved enthusiastically.

The boys bowed a second time and left the ice.

 

“I’m so sorry, Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed as soon as they returned to the change room. When their scores were announced, he realized how much being forgetful cost him. “I don’t know why, but I couldn’t remember anything.”

Yuuri shook his head to show that an apology wasn’t necessary. “I was worried I would forget the steps,” he admitted. “It might be me next time.”

“What do we do if one of us forgets again?” Victor asked taking both of Yuuri’s hands. “I don’t want to get bad scores like that again!”

“I’ll learn your steps,” Yuuri promised, “and you can learn mine and we’ll help each other out.”

Victor nodded and then he giggled. “And what if I only remember yours and you remember mine?”

Yuuri scrunched up his face thoughtfully. “Then we switch,” he suggested and smiled. Victor nodded in agreement.

“There you two are!” Svetlana exclaimed and threw her arms around her pupils. “I’m so proud of you!”

“But we didn’t even win!” Victor protested. It was all very clear in his mind: if someone won, they got congratulated, but otherwise – there were no congratulations.

But half an hour later, his and Yuuri’s parents were all doing the same thing: congratulating them both as if they’d won.

So he smiled and posed for pictures, deciding not to argue. He got down on one knee and beamed as Yuuri stood behind him with one hand on his shoulder. They posed side by side and back to back, as if about to break out into dancing.

When he went back home he sat by the window and thought about the competition. He rested his chin in his hands and grinned up at the stars.

Something blinked up in the sky overhead and he lowered his hands.

A shooting star!

He joined his hands and closed his eyes as quickly as he could and wished with all his heart, mouthing the words of his wish.

_I wish that Yuuri and I become the bestest skaters there ever were!_

 

The next day when Yuuri and Victor met up for practice Svetlana told them about a spring skating camp.

“So what do you say? Do you want to join?”

The boys gave their answer at the same time without even consulting each other. “Yes!”

She laughed and clapped her hands. “Wonderful! That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. Now let’s talk about how you skated in the competition.”

She spent a good hour going over their skate with them and explaining the mistakes they’d made. Then she made them skate it again.

Svetlana still insisted on individual lessons for both skaters. To her great surprise, the boys didn’t complain about this.

 

That year winter took a long time to end. It snowed heavily in mid-February, burying houses and cars in almost a metre of snow and it wasn’t until late March that it all melted. A harsh wind still blew from the north, stinging cheeks and noses and there was still not even the hint of spring in the air, but still the spring skating camp began.

The sun hadn’t risen yet, but Yuuri was already awake and getting his things ready. A woolen hat lay on the table with his mittens. They weren’t as big for him as they used to be. He’d grown a whole centimeter in those months and was secretly very proud of it.

He ran down to the kitchen to get breakfast and found his mom preparing rice for him to eat.

“Good morning, mom!” he beamed at her.

“Good morning, Yuuri.” She placed a bowl of rice on the table. “Do you have all your things ready?”

He wiggled onto the chair and nodded happily. “Yep!”

As always, she put a glass of milk on the table before him. She’d said once that would help his bones be strong and for him to grow tall and he’d accepted it without complaint. These days it felt as if all the food his mother made for him would make him taller, but for some reason he was still the smallest of everyone around him.

His mother finished what she was doing and sat down at the table to join him for breakfast. She wasn’t going to drive him that morning. Svetlana volunteered to do that.

Yuuri raised his eyes and realized that instead of eating his mother was just watching him with a little sad smile on her face. “What’s wrong, mother?”

“Nothing, Yuuri. Eat up. They’ll be here soon. You don’t want to make them wait – it’s not polite.” His mother rose from her seat and walked over to him to put her arms around Yuuri’s shoulders. “You want to grow up tall, right Yuuri?”

He raised his eyes and looked at her. “Of course!” How could she possibly doubt that?

She opened her mouth to say something, but there was a knock on the door and she left him to open it.

Yuuri wolfed down the rest of his food and rushed after her, knowing that Victor would be there with his aunt to pick him up.

He didn’t notice the way his mother watched him as he put his coat, hat and mittens on. He missed the mix of sadness and fondness on her face as he tied his shoelaces and rushed out with his friend.

 

The sun shone through the windows as Yuuri went around the skating rink. He raised his hands and his head, closing his eyes. He turned and jumped, making two spins before landing on the ice.

Yuuri was beautiful. Perhaps, it was a strange way to describe a seven-year-old, but if someone argued that the word couldn’t be used yet, they wouldn’t argue that Yuuri promised to grow up to become someone unforgettable. It was there in every graceful line of his body.

A man stood by the skating rink and watched the little boy practice. He’d come to coach someone else, when Yuuri caught his eye. And it wasn’t just Yuuri who’d captured his attention.

Yuuri was lost in a world of his own. It was a Saturday morning – a time when everyone was at home with their families, but he’d wanted to get more practice in.

There was a little competition between skaters in the camp scheduled for the next week and he didn’t want to mess it up.

“Yuuri!” a voice called and a door opened. Victor burst in, a big happy smile on his face. “I knew you were here!” he declared.

Yuuri stopped on the ice and turned around to stare at him. He waited for Victor to join him on the ice.

“Let’s practice together,” Victor suggested, taking Yuuri’s hands.

It wasn’t all serious, no – most of the skate was silly and for parts of it they split up and went to different sides of the rink. But never once did they bump into each other and for most of it they moved together, as if they’d rehearsed it.

The observer sat in the back row in the stands and watched with a smile and wished he could record this practice.

They stopped in the middle of the ice and smiled at each other. And, as if they’d discussed this, they split up and the skate continued. They practiced until other people showed up and even then they went on skating, carefully avoiding everyone else out on the ice. It was that time of the day when the rink was open to the public, but the two skaters went on, as if they were the only ones out on the ice.

Yuuri could close his eyes and he still he would know where Victor was at any moment, the observer was prepared to bet on it, and Victor could do the same.

 

Spring was almost over when one day Yuuri came home with a strange request for his mother.

“Mom, can you drive me to Toronto, please?” he asked, putting his hands on the kitchen table and looking up at her.

“Why do you want to go so far, Yuuri?”

“I saw a poster for a summer ballet camp,” Yuuri told her. “There was one at the Arena. It said that anyone between seven and nine could come and try and I thought I could…” He lowered his eyes shyly. “Unless you… um, don’t want me to? I can take the bus.”

“No, no, I will drive you!” Hiroko insisted, suppressing a shudder at the thought of the London-Toronto bus.

“Really?” he raised his eyes, saw her nod and his face split into an expression of relief. “I don’t know if they’ll take me,” he said, “but I thought it might be fun!”

Hiroko put her arms around him. “I’m sure it will be,” she assured him. “But what about skating?”

“It’s only for the summer,” he insisted. “So I’ll go back to skating, of course!”

She hugged him tighter. There had been a time when she barely hugged anyone, but watching other parents hug their children and seeing Victor’s family hug Yuuri made her change her habits. “Did you tell Victor?”

“Uh-huh,” Yuuri nodded. “Actually,” he pulled away and looked a little guilty. “It was Victor’s idea I go. He saw me looking at the poster and said that I should try it.”

“Did he really?” she asked, crouching down so that her face was at the same level as his.

“Yeah.” Yuuri frowned. “He didn’t say why though.”

Hiroko knew why: she’d noticed how close Victor and Yuuri had become and knew that if Victor was telling Yuuri to go do something it meant that he really wanted to go. He’d probably stared at that poster every time he walked past it.

She didn’t say any of this, merely repeated her promise to drive Yuuri to the audition.

 

There was no shortage of girls at the auditions (which came as no surprise, since these were held by the National Ballet itself) and the judging panel saw a mix of talent from showing promise to really very good for their age. There weren’t as many boys at the auditions, though, and this made one candidate stand out even more: Yuuri Katsuki.

He was small, yes, but he moved with the grace of a ballet dancer with several years of experience on the stage.

One of the ballet instructors came up to him when he finished, giving a little clap of his hands. “That was very good, Yuuri,” he said. “Do you want to enroll for the whole school year?”

“No, I… I thought I was just trying out for the summer,” Yuuri admitted, looking as if he was apologizing for doing something wrong.

“And you’re in! But why not come to the proper school? We can make a great ballet dancer out of you! Tell me, Yuuri, do you want to be a ballet dancer when you grow up?”

The little boy looked at the instructor and then threw a fearful look at all the other members of the judging panel. “I…” He stared at his feet. “I don’t really know,” he admitted. “I really like ballet,” he raised his head again, “but skating is really fun too!”

The sound of chuckling filled the room. Yuuri turned bright red.

“I’m sure it is,” the instructor said with a little nod and the laughter died away. “But we can make a famous ballet dancer out of you. Have you ever heard of Mikhail Baryshnikov?”

Yuuri gave him an odd look. “Of course I have!” he exclaimed.

“You can grow up to be as good as him,” the man promised. There were more chuckles after those words.

“But I can’t!” Yuuri protested.

The instructor was taken aback by this response. “Why not?”

“Because I have a partner,” came the reply.

This time the laughter was a little louder.

“You don’t have to decide now,” the instructor insisted. “Just promise me to think about it, ok?”

Yuuri nodded, but the line of his mouth suggested that he’d already made his decision.

 

Hiroko watched Yuuri walk out, looking faintly embarrassed. She rushed over to him. She hadn’t been allowed to watch his audition and had to wait for him outside the room. The wait had dragged out forever for her and she’d worried that something had gone wrong.

“Yuuri!” she exclaimed happily. “How did it go?”

“They accepted me,” he told her. “Mom, is it bad that I didn’t agree to stay for a full year?”

“It’s your decision, Yuuri,” she said. “You decide what you want to do.”

He gave her a wide-eyed look. “So you won’t be upset if I decide to do something you don’t want?”

“I want you to be happy,” she told him, “and I want you to pick what will make you happiest. You don’t have to pick what you think dad or I will like, or even what Victor will like.”

Yuuri opened his mouth, looking prepared to argue and then closed it again. “Really?”

“Really,” she said with a nod.

“But I promised to be Victor’s partner!” he protested.

“Did you promise to be his partner forever?”

They were walking out of the building as they talked and this question made Yuuri stop. The door behind him closed with a click, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Not really,” he finally answered.

He didn’t say anything after that and Hiroko also kept silent during the whole ride home. She let him think for himself. It was a big decision for a child to make, of course, but she wanted him to be the one that made it.

 

Two days later the phone rang and Hiroko answered it to discover that it was someone from the National Ballet.

“I’d like to speak with Yuuri Katsuki, please,” the person said in a very polite tone of voice, “or, perhaps, you can talk to him for me? I’d like him to join our ballet school full time. He has a real talent and we would hate to see it go to waste.”

Hiroko’s answer was the same as always. “I’ll call Yuuri down and let him talk to you.”

This was it, she thought. This was the moment when Yuuri left figure skating for good. She’d seen him eye the ballet posters in his room thoughtfully and knew how it weighed on his mind.

But no matter what the caller said, Yuuri wouldn’t be persuaded. “If I go to ballet school, I’ll be doing only ballet, right?” he asked.

“Well, of course! Our students don’t have a lot of time for anything else!” the caller said.

“But I like ballet and skating,” he insisted, “so I want to continue doing both, if I can. And I have a partner now, so I can’t let him down.”

Hiroko listened with a smile and then accepted the phone back out of Yuuri’s hands. “I’m sorry,” she said and found, to her surprise, that she wasn’t really feeling sorry.

“This is the first time we got turned down by a seven-year-old because they already have a partner!” the caller exclaimed, still a little shocked by their conversation.

Hiroko said nothing to this. She watched Yuuri go back up the stairs to his room with his eyes lowered.

 

It was the morning of the day Yuuri would leave for his summer camp. He’d been warned ahead of time that he wouldn’t be allowed to see any family or friends for the first two weeks and this was making him a little nervous.

Victor was there to wish him good luck. It didn’t take a lot of persuasion to get someone to drive him and this time both of his parents came along.

“I want you to have this,” Victor said, pressing a little photo of himself into Yuuri’s hand. It was one of the photos they’d taken at his school. The photo was nothing more than a portrait showing him with a silly smile on his face. Under it Victor had written: _To my partner Yuuri, the bestest partner in all the world._

Yuuri stared at it and then slipped it into his pocket. “Thank you.”

They hugged each other tightly.

“I’ll keep practicing while you’re gone,” Victor promised. “When you come back you’ll see that I’m much, much better than I was!”

Yuuri was silent.

They pulled apart and Yuuri stepped back, hesitated and then took Victor’s hands with both of his. Victor leaned forward. “A kiss for good luck,” he said, repeating what he’d heard someone say once and pecked Yuuri on the cheek.

“Good bye,” Yuuri said, making two steps back.

“Good luck!”

Victor watched the car take Yuuri away, waving until it disappeared completely from view.

Summer stretched ahead of him, interminably long and very, very lonely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the updates got super slow on this fic. I signed up for three bangs, two zines, a Secret Santa and there will be some themed fics coming along in the near future...*whispers* a sequel to Redemption Wears Gucci...
> 
> (Don't ask me why I do this to myself. I have no idea either.)
> 
> Also! I posted a preview for one of the bang pieces, if any of you are curious. You can find it [here](http://witharthurkirkland.tumblr.com/post/178294653198/tr%C3%A9sor-preview).


	5. A Promise

The phone in the Katsukis’ house rang and Hiroko picked it up, hoping it was Yuuri at last. She thought about her son night and day, counting down the hours until the day when they would finally let him call home.

They were too strict in that ballet school, she’d said. She repeated those words to anyone who would listen to her, knowing she was starting to annoy people, but unable to help it.

“Hello?” she said.

The response on the other end wasn’t a “hello”, or any other form of greeting, but the sound of crying. Her heart fell at the sound. She recognized it all too well.

“Yuuri, dear, what’s wrong?”

“M-mother…” Yuuri stammered out. She imagined him shake as he wept, as big droplets rolled down his cheek. The image was too painful to bear, but it sprung up before her eyes and refused to leave.

“Is it too much? Are they treating you badly? Are they feeding you?” she asked.

“Mother, I’m… I’m just so happy to finally talk to you!” Yuuri exclaimed before she could argue. “I’m just lonely… but only a little, honest. I like it here! It’s fun! It really is!”

“Oh, Yuuri,” she sighed. “You gave me such a fright!”

“Sorry, mother.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” she insisted. “Now, tell me everything. Who is in your class? How many students are there? Are you eating well?”

 

Victor slipped through the building, throwing glances around him, as if he was a secret agent like in one of those movies his father really liked to watch. He was short enough to sneak past the security guard without the man noticing and he had a story ready in any case, if anyone where to catch him in the hall and challenge his presence there.

But still he had to be very careful: each room he passed needed to be checked in a way that no one would notice. He didn’t want to waste a single precious minute of his time here on explaining why he’d come.

This one? No.

That one? No, again.

There: that one.

He spotted his target and made a run for it.

“Victor?” Yuuri exclaimed, turning at the sound of his footsteps. “What are you doing here?”

Victor threw his arms around Yuuri and pulled him close. “I came to see you, of course!”

“You didn’t need to come all the way here!” Yuuri protested, but Victor waved his words away. “You could’ve just called!” Yuuri added.

“What good is a phone call?” Victor asked, stepping back. “I wanted to see you in person!” He was almost bursting with excitement now.

“Thank you,” Yuuri said. Was it Victor’s imagination, or was there a touch of shyness in the boy’s tone?

Victor finally gave Yuuri a proper look, curious to see how his partner had changed in the two weeks they were apart.

Yuuri looked taller and thinner. He was in a black bodysuit with a pair of black tights to match. There were ballet shoes on his feet. Victor couldn’t help thinking that he looked like a real ballet dancer now.

“So?” Victor asked. “Will you show me something you learned?”

A doubtful expression appeared on Yuuri’s face to be replaced by a big smile. “Ok.”

Victor stepped back to give Yuuri more room and watched the boy spin on the spot. He didn’t rise to his tiptoes, but Victor was impressed anyway.  He clapped happily when Yuuri finished and asked to see more.

After a little dance routine Yuuri took Victor’s hand and pulled him out of the room. They went down a hall and then up several flights of stairs before Yuuri unlocked a door to what turned out to be his bedroom.

It was very small and barely had more than a bed, but Victor didn’t think much about it at the time.

The boys sat down on the bed, side by side.

“How is your aunt?” Yuuri asked. “Is she still coaching you?”

Victor laughed. “Of course she is!”

“What about my parents? Have you seen them?” Yuuri went on.

Victor shook his head.

Slowly Yuuri got into more and more questions about the Arena, Victor’s parents, the other skaters who trained with them and what Victor was practicing now.

With all the questions they lost track of time. But what did it matter how long they talked to each other if it still felt like all that time wasn’t enough for them to say the million things they needed to tell each other? In all those hours Yuuri had spent alone he’d thought a lot about their skating. Likewise, Victor had many lonely practices to spend thinking about skating.

“Victor!” a voice called and Yuuri recognized it as belonging to Mrs. Nikiforov, Victor’s mother.

“You have to go,” Yuuri told him.

Victor got up with a sigh. “I’ll come visit again, ok?” he asked.

Yuuri nodded happily.

 

It wasn’t long before everyone in the ballet school found out about Victor and his partnership with Yuuri.

“Are you two going out?” one of the ballerinas asked.

“We’re just friends,” Yuuri told her, not realizing that he was hearing a question that would follow him most of his life.

The dancer didn’t argue. She didn’t bother pointing out that she’d seen the hug the two boys exchanged before Victor climbed into his mother’s car, or that she’d heard Yuuri crying in his room after Victor left.

Somehow the rumour went around the school anyway. Yuuri was dating someone, they all told each other. More than that – it was because he was dating someone that he wouldn’t go on to become a ballet dancer, but preferred to stick to figure skating instead. Someone (Yuuri never found out who) made a song about it, which they sang at Yuuri in the halls.

The next time Victor dropped by for a visit and someone sang it at him he responded with his fists. Yuuri barely pulled him away before someone got seriously hurt.

“You don’t have to fight them,” Yuuri said, putting a band-aid over the cut on Victor’s hand.

“They’re just so annoying!” Victor protested and winced in pain. “Don’t they bother you?”

“I just ignore them,” Yuuri said calmly.

He covered the last cut with a band-aid and sat back. They were in his room again, sitting on the bed, half-turned towards each other. For a while neither of them said anything.

Then Victor whispered, “My classmate Jonah gets bullied all the time. One time they stole his shoes and he hurt his feet walking home in his socks.” He lowered his head. “I don’t want someone to bully you like that.”

Yuuri took Victor’s hand with a smile. “You’re always looking out for me. Thank you.”

Victor raised his head and grinned. “I have to because you’re my partner!” He put his hands around Yuuri. “You don’t have to tell anyone else, but if something bad happens, you have to tell me, ok?” he whispered into the boy’s ear.

“Ok.”

“Promise?” Victor insisted.

“Promise.”

But, whether because Victor managed to frighten a few of the students, or for some other reason, no one gave Yuuri any trouble after that.

Summer ended and, despite repeated phone calls and talks in person from several ballet teachers, Yuuri returned to figure skating.

 

“Who’s that? Who’s that?” someone demanded, nudging someone else with their elbow.

Victor turned to see who all the excitement was about.

A graceful figure flew over the ice, hands moving with the fingers all carefully arranged. There was a gentle smile on the skater’s face as he moved impossibly fast.

For the first time in his life Victor really regretted not being interested in ballet. Yuuri returned from his summer camp looking more graceful than ever, making Victor feel awkward and clumsy. More than that, Yuuri had learned so many new and interesting moves.

What was this? He wasn’t going to lose to Yuuri!

Victor got out onto the ice and joined his partner, going around him in a circle. “Welcome back!”

Yuuri took his hands and went backwards with a smile and Victor forgot all about the boast he’d prepared. He forgot that he was going to show Yuuri the new jump and spin he’d learned while the boy was away.

He’d forgotten how good it was to go around the rink together, just holding hands and doing very little else.

They spent the day going around together, as if trying to remember that feeling of skating as a pair. For two people who’d gotten used to skating with a partner it was like returning home. They lost themselves in the feeling, enjoying it to its fullest.

To an outside observer it may not have been much of a skate: so much of it was just them going around together, but for the first time in a long while a simple skate was all they wanted.

At first, anyway, and then Yuuri freed one hand and raised it over his head. Victor followed his lead, feeling like a pale imitation.

Yuuri released Victor and jumped and Victor copied him, continuing to watch Yuuri as he turned.

Yuuri had changed a little, but still he was the same Yuuri. The same Yuuri who was his best friend in the whole world. The same Yuuri who was the perfect partner.

Their eyes met and they smiled at each other and he knew that this was where they were both happiest: together out on the ice, moving as a pair.

 _I’ll never skate with anyone else,_ he thought. _If I can’t skate with you, then I’ll just skate alone._

The sound of clapping made them stop moving and turn.

An old man stood at the boards, watching them with a strange twinkle in his eyes.

Victor felt Yuuri’s hand tighten around his.

Victor liked getting praise. He enjoyed performing before an audience and the sound of their cheers and applause when he finished, but at that moment he couldn’t help but think of the old man as an intruder.

While they were skating he’d actually forgotten about the people around them, treating them as details of the background, or just obstacles to skate around.

This had been a moment just for him and Yuuri, a kind of welcome back that other people had no business interrupting.

They stood together out on the ice as the man went on smiling at them.

“I don’t think we’ve ever met,” he said at last, “but I hope you will forgive my interruption.” He paused as if waiting for one of the skaters to say something. “My name is Celestino Cialdini.”

If he thought that would make up for his interruption, he was mistaken. Victor stood still, torn between awe and the sense that a figure skating coach, of all people, should know better than to interrupt.

“Sorry again for the interruption,” he repeated. “Perhaps I can make up for it by offering to coach you?” he asked.

The boys exchanged a look.

Mr. Cialdini was well-known for picking out promising young talent and training the skaters to a more mature level. They said he had an eye for them even in some situations when other coaches would disagree. It was also said that if anyone had hopes of getting anywhere they had to catch his eye and start training with him.

And, yet, Victor couldn’t help feeling as if the man was making a joke.

“Do you mean for today?” Yuuri asked, skating to the boards and taking Victor with him. “Or longer than that?”

“Let’s try it out for today, shall we?” Mr. Cialdini offered. “If you like my coaching style, I will stay with you two longer.”

Yuuri and Victor exchanged a look. It sounded better now.

“I should warn you, though,” Mr. Cialdini went on. “I have many students and I coach them all in Kitchener. That means you’ll have to travel there regularly.”

Victor had no idea how far away Kitchener was. He’d barely even heard of the place before, but he could feel Yuuri’s determination now. It was the same as his own. They weren’t the kind of people to back down from a challenge, even if it meant driving for five hours every day.

He thought of his parents and the many times they’d told him to think before he acted. He was impulsive and always made his choice right away, but this time it wasn’t just his choice to make.

“I want to talk about it with Victor first,” Yuuri said just as Victor prepared to suggest the same thing.

They exchanged another look.

Mr. Cialdini nodded. “Of course. You don’t even have to give me your answer now.” He pulled a card out of his pocket. “I always carry these around with me just in case,” he told them. “My name and phone number are written down here. If you don’t give me your answer today, you can always call me later.” He held the card out and watched them.

The coach held it exactly between the two skaters and Victor couldn’t help the feeling that this was some kind of test. What did it mean? Was he looking to see which of them would take it first?

Yuuri and Victor reached for it together and held either end of it as they read what it said.

“You keep it,” Yuuri whispered. “Your coat has pockets.”

Victor didn’t argue as he pocketed the card. “Will you coach us a little now?” he asked.

Mr. Cialdini smiled and told them that he’d love to.

 

That evening they sat together in Yuuri’s room as the sun set outside. It coloured the walls a reddish-orange and made Victor think of a fire.

They didn’t say anything about the coach’s offer even though both of them hardly thought about anything else. More than that, they could see the same thoughts in each other’s faces. For some reason, it didn’t feel right to talk about it just yet.

“I came up with a dance yesterday, but I wanted to try it on a floor before trying it on the ice,” Yuuri said. He rose from his chair and held out his hands.

Victor took them. For a moment he was distracted by the thought that his hands were just a little bigger, but then Yuuri walked around the room and Victor had to concentrate on following closely in his steps, all thoughts of hands momentarily forgotten. In the warmth of Yuuri’s room and with the bright sunlight pouring in from the window Victor imagined them dancing all alone in the middle of a dessert as sand blew around them and somewhere a camel made whatever noise camels usually made.

Yuuri stopped and turned his head away from Victor, before facing him again and walking right at him. Victor stepped back, forgetting about the walls and furniture, trying to figure out what his part was supposed to be.

Yuuri released his hands and raised his arms dramatically. He held the pose for several seconds before giving Victor a curious look. “What do you think?”

“I think I need a good final pose too,” Victor said and pulled Yuuri’s arms back up to walk around and imagine where he could stand. “What if we stood back to back with our arms raised together?” he suggested after a while.

“Okay. Let’s try that,” Yuuri agreed.

They liked coming up with dances together like this. It didn’t matter if they were on the ice or not, it was still lots of fun. They tried different steps and took turns spinning around.

“Now we just need music,” Victor pointed out.

“We can turn the radio on and search for something,” Yuuri suggested.

They snuck down into the living room. Mrs. Katsuki was cooking something in the kitchen. Mr. Katsuki was away with Mari and, so, the boys knew they could move around the house unchallenged. After all, there was nothing worse than adults asking pointless questions. They found a little radio and carried it back to Yuuri’s room like a trophy to demonstrate their victory.

While Yuuri skipped station after station Victor tried to imagine what the music needed to be like.

For some reason, the radio stubbornly gave them only boring news and annoying ads.

“I want….” Yuuri suddenly said, shutting the radio off. “I was talking to my mom about celebrating my birthday and I was thinking…”

“What?” Victor whispered, looking around just in case an adult decided to poke their head into the room.

“Promise you won’t tell anyone?” Yuuri whispered back.

“I promise,” Victor said.

“And you won’t laugh?” Yuuri insisted.

“Why would I laugh?” Victor asked. “Look, here’s my pinky. I promise.”

Yuuri caught it briefly with his finger and then released it again to fidget nervously. “I know you’re not supposed to tell anyone, but…” Yuuri shifted closer, “…I know what I will wish for on my birthday.”

Victor held his breath and waited.

“I’m going to wish that one day you and I win the Olympics together,” Yuuri said.

Victor couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face at that. He saw the look of alarm on Yuuri’s face and whispered, “That’s the best wish there is!” Then he held out his pinky a second time and Yuuri took it with his own, “I promise that no matter what happens, even if the Moon explodes, I will work my hardest to win with you!”

There was a big grin on Yuuri’s face now. “Same.”

“We’re the best team in the world, anyway,” Victor said, taking on a serious tone. There was never any doubt in his mind on this score. It was just the truth and no one could argue with the truth, right?

Yuuri stared thoughtfully at their joined hands before finally saying, “There are many teams better than us.”

 

It was like a little adventure. Once a week, Victor would wake up extra early. His father would then drive him to a little church in Ilderton where he’d wait for Yuuri.

The days grew shorter and the skies – darker with every morning, but the shape of the Bethel Church remained unchanged.

Victor would wait, staring out at the road, doing his best not to look at the church. It frightened him, but he refused to admit as much to anyone. Peter once told him about the ghosts that haunted church graveyards and now the skater dreaded the day when he’d arrive at the church in complete darkness.

It wasn’t even a nice-looking church. It just stood on the road that led to London and was a good place to wait for his partner

Finally Mrs. Katsuki would bring Yuuri in her car and one of the parents would drive them both to Kitchener.

At first Victor tried to play games with Yuuri to pass the time, but soon he learned that no matter how interesting the game was, they’d both fall asleep five minutes into the drive.

They slept side by side, the head of one of them resting on the other person’s shoulder. There was lots of room in the back of the car for them to sit at different sides and the adults even brought them blankets and pillows, trying to make two beds for them, but it was much better like this – next to the one person in the whole world each of them trusted most.

Much, much later when Victor returned to the church as an adult in a car that was nearly identical to the one that often took him to practice he wondered when the world had gotten so small. The church didn’t tower over him in such a frightening way anymore and the back seat of the car felt cramped with barely enough room for his long legs.

But in the here and now the boys felt like they had a house on wheels all to themselves (even if they slept so much in it).

“We’re almost there!” Victor exclaimed, waking up just in time and giving Yuuri a light shake.

Yuuri sat up and rubbed sleep from his eyes. He peered out the window and his face broke into a grin. He always smiled when he saw their new arena appear up ahead.

So would Victor – this is what it was all for: those few hours of practice together with a serious coach.

Sometimes they would sleep on the way back, but more often they’d chat excitedly about the lesson and what they wanted to try next.

“I think we should practice more,” Victor suggested and looked at Yuuri to see what he would say to that.

Yuuri nodded. “Yes, we need to practice more!”

Victor’s mom, who was the one driving them back that day, was silent in that way she usually was when she didn’t like what Victor was suggesting and was about to explain why.

Victor opened his mouth to argue the point further and caught Yuuri’s eye. He remembered his promise and gave a little nod to show that he won’t give it away. “Can we, mom?” he asked after a brief pause. “I promise to finish all my homework on time _and_ help with chores around the house!”

“I need to talk about it with Yuuri’s parents first,” she insisted.

Victor could see that she didn’t like their trips. For some reason, she wasn’t happy with the coaching arrangement. But why? Didn’t she like watching them skate? Didn’t she want them to become better? Was it because driving them to practice was such hard work?

“If it’s too much trouble to drive us,” he volunteered, “Yuuri and I can just take the bus. Right, Yuuri?”

“Right!” Yuuri agreed.

“Oh _boys_ ,” his mother sighed, “how can I ever let you go on the bus alone? Think of how dangerous it would be! You could get lost and –”

“We won’t get lost!” Victor interrupted impatiently. “ _And_ we’d have each other! I’ll protect Yuuri and he’ll protect me! See? It’s simple!”

She laughed. “If skating really means so much to you, then one of us will drive you to practice even if you decide to go every day.”

“Aww! Thanks, mom!” Victor undid his belt, slid forward in his seat and hugged his mother from behind, reaching forward to give her cheek a big kiss.

She went on laughing. “Viten’ka! You know how much I love you!”

Victor slid back and did up his belt. “And Yuuri, right?” he insisted, taking his partner’s hand as he gave him a triumphant grin.

“And Yuuri, of course!”

“Thank you,” Yuuri said. But, for some reason, he put his arms around Victor and kissed him on the cheek instead of Victor’s mom.

 _Partners,_ Victor thought, glowing with pride. _Partners forever and ever!_

 

Mr. and Mrs. Nikiforov met up with Mr. and Mrs. Katsuki one evening. The four adults sat in a little diner, waiting for someone to speak first. Their kids waited for them at home. There were chores to be done, but this conversation was important.

Finally Mrs. Nikiforov made up her mind to voice her worries first. “I think we’re putting too much stress on our children. I’m all for letting them do what they like, but I’m starting to worry that it’s all too much.”

“Dina –” Mr. Nikiforov began.

“They’re not even 10 years old!” she protested. “I want them to enjoy growing up, to have a good childhood.” She lowered her head and admitted, “That’s why we immigrated in the first place.”

Alexei put an arm around her. “Victor likes being with Yuuri. That’s all he ever talks about these days, you know that.”

“But is it right?” Dina insisted. “I went to many different club activities after school and had a lot of friends to play with. I can’t help thinking that Victor has given all that up for this. What if one day he wakes up thinking that he wants to be like other boys and starts to hate skating for taking all that away from him?”

No one at the table knew what to say to that.

After a while Hiroko admitted, “When they called from the ballet school at the end of the summer I realized that I would’ve liked for Yuuri to enroll in their full-time program. You should’ve seen him after that school. I’d go up to his room and find him practicing a new dance routine.”

“I think what we’re all worried about the most,” Toshiya said, “is that one day Yuuri will think he should’ve picked ballet while Victor will think about hockey, or something else. What will that do to them and their friendship?”

The adults went silent at this.

“You don’t think…” Dina began hesitantly. “You don’t think that they would… They’re the closest friends I’ve ever seen!”

Alexei put an arm around her. “Even the closest friends get into fights sometimes. I’ll talk to Mr. Cialdini and see what he suggests,” he promised. “He has experience with coaching pairs. He’ll know what to do.”

That was what they decided in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still remember about this fic and I’m still working on it. I just got sidetracked by the bangs and the themed weeks. Sorry!


	6. Learning the Basics

Giving two children what was essentially marriage counselling may have seemed odd to others, but not to Mr. Cialdini and his assistant. In every partnership – be it a marriage or just a business partnership – there needed to be honesty and trust between the two parties.

“You need to talk things out.”

“Don’t keep your frustrations all pent up.”

“Honestly tell each other how everything makes you feel.”

These are all good pieces of advice for any team of people, no matter how big or small.

“The important thing to always remember,” Mr. Cialdini’s assistant said, “is that if one of you makes a mistake, the other person should never blame them. You’re a team. It’s not Victor’s or Yuuri’s mistake: it’s your team’s mistake.”

The boys nodded. For all their competitiveness, the coach and his assistant both noticed that they never made fun of each other for something they could do but the other person couldn’t. More than that, the person who couldn’t do something would ask the other person to teach them how to do it and they’d work on it together.

“Now I want you to talk honestly about today’s practice. Yuuri will go first,” the assistant told them.

Yuuri was silent for a moment before saying, “I think today’s practice went really badly.”

Victor nodded in agreement.

Mr. Cialdini stood with his arms folded over his chest and watched his pupils with a smile. He was born in Italy and had moved to Canada many years ago when he’d been a little child. Still he’d grown up speaking Italian and would often add little words here and there like the “ciao, ciao” he used in place of a hello or a goodbye. This earned him the nickname “Ciao-Ciao” from his students. He was in his mid-40s, which to his pupils (most of which were in their early teens) felt like an old age.

Mr. Cialdini enjoyed jokes and had a loud rumbling laugh, but when he got serious his pupils knew they had to do what they were told and to stop playing around. Yuuri and Victor had learned to trust him very quickly and to take many of his opinions as their own.

“Mr. Cialdini says…” Yuuri or Victor would often begin and then tell their parents what the coach thought on this or that subject.

They attended figure skating practice every day now. Yuuri still took ballet lessons on the side and Victor took a few himself. To top it off, Svetlana went on training them separately.

Mr. Cialdini took them through the basics, all while preparing them for the western Ontario sectionals.

Both boys were itching for a competition, a chance to prove they’d learned something. The coach knew that the promise of a competition wasn’t enough: he needed to find a way to get them through practice. The boys were getting too restless for simple elements.

That was where his assistant helped a lot.

“I want you to twizzle as fast as you can,” she said one morning and did her best to keep her face straight as the boys obeyed her instructions.

Yuuri and Victor tumbled over almost at the same time.

“And we have a photo finish!” Mr. Cialdini exclaimed.

The boys lay on the ice and giggled. Even the coaches couldn’t stay calm by this point and joined in the laughter.

Yuuri stopped laughing first and rose to his feet, holding his hand out to Victor.

Victor took the offered hand and leapt up to his feet, almost knocking them both over again.

Mr. Cialdini’s assistant skated out onto the ice and circled them. “Now I want to see a dip,” she said.

“A dip?” Victor repeated.

The assistant misunderstood his tone and beckoned Mr. Cialdini out onto the ice.

The coach skated towards her, ready to demonstrate a dip when she caught his hands and spun him around, dipping him in return.

Several silent seconds ticked by and then the coach’s loud laughter shook the arena a second time.

 

When there was no way to avoid it, Mr. Cialdini gave little lectures on figure skating. He talked about body positioning, edge quality, speed and blade control.

“Alright, now you’ve listened to me talk, go and prove to me that you understood what I said!” he exclaimed each time and the boys would go out on the ice and tried to translate his words into actions.

The training was very challenging, but neither of the boys complained, not even when it took them a whole week to figure out how to do what was asked of them.

 

The nights were getting cold and there was frost on the grass in the mornings when Mrs. Nikiforov invited the Katsukis as well as Mr. Cialdini and his assistant over for dinner. There was no special occasion, but she wanted to gather both of their families together.

She spent all day in the kitchen with her two eldest sons, cooking with barely a stop for breath. It had always been a tradition in her family to make a lot of food when they had guests over and she felt the need to uphold that tradition now.

Victor and Yuuri were playing something outside. She’d left them to it, deciding they deserved some time to rest. Every once in a while she threw glances out the window to see what they were doing.

Peter and Paul washed the cutlery and then laid it out on the table, running into the kitchen every few minutes to check if they had the right forks and knives.

A car pulled up into the driveway and she rushed out to greet her guests, worried that not everything was finished in time.

Hiroko and Toshiya entered the house with Mari lingering in the doorway and there was that usual chaos that follows the arrival of guests. Everyone was caught near the door, getting trapped in several conversations at once.

It wasn’t long before Mr. Cialdini and his assistant joined the general confusion.

“I need to congratulate you,” Mr. Cialdini said after the usual hellos were exchanged, “on having very talented children. But, then again, you already know that!”

“I’ve never seen such musical kids!” the assistant exclaimed and got proud looks from Hiroko and Dina.

“That’s what Svetlana keeps saying,” Dina announced proudly.

“I’m prepared to bet all of my life’s savings,” Mr. Cialdini said, “that they will win more than one national title.”

The parents glowed with pride, but deep down they couldn’t help feeling that the man was just flattering them and their children.

The assistant gave everyone in the room a smile, as if she’d been personally praised. “All the skaters in Kitchener and Waterloo are talking about them. I really think –”

But they never got to find out what she thought because in that moment the promising pair ran in and the house was suddenly full of noise, most of which consisted of crying and begging for help.

Chaos followed. Unlike the confusion before it, there was nothing pleasant about it this time. No one could understand what was happening. One moment everything was fine, the next – a misfortune fell on their heads.

“Everyone, please, stay calm!” Mr. Cialdini’s voice boomed over the others.

Eleven pairs of eyes turned to look at him.

Victor stood in the doorway with Yuuri’s arms around him. Both boys had bloodstains on their clothes.

Dina was crying over her son. Hiroko was panicking over Yuuri.

“What happened?” Alexei asked, trying to calm his wife down.

“I…” Victor looked at Yuuri, “I fell,” he said and raised his arm a little, “but… my arm really hurts, mama! And I can’t really move it.”

Yuuri’s arms tightened around Victor’s chest, avoiding the damaged arm. “Victor needs a doctor,” he said, looking around at all the adults.

“How did you fall?” Peter asked, but got no answer.

The adults got deep into a long argument about calling an ambulance or someone driving Victor to the hospital.

Finally Alexei got his jacket and driver’s license with the words, “I’ll take him.”

“I’m coming too!” Yuuri insisted.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” Hiroko asked, brushing a hand through her son’s hair.

“I’m fine, mother,” he told her, “but Victor needs me to stay with him.”

No one dared to argue against that and both boys went to the nearest hospital.

 

It was so terrifying. Yuuri saw the way all the colour drained out of Victor’s face when his arm had been hit and ran to his side without even thinking. There was blood on Victor’s arm, but not as much as he’d expected to see when he’d heard the noise of something breaking.

Victor hadn’t fallen. That was a lie for the adults and for everyone else. The adults couldn’t be trusted with the truth – both boys expected to get grounded if anyone ever found out everything.

They sat in the back of Mr. Nikiforov’s car, huddled together. Victor sobbed softly from the pain.

“Please don’t fight anymore,” Yuuri whispered as quietly as he could into Victor’s ear.

Victor stopped sobbing, raised his head and opened his mouth to protest. He caught Yuuri’s eye, closed his mouth and gave a nod instead.

“All this time you’ve looked after me,” Yuuri whispered. “Now it’s my turn to look after you.”

Victor nodded again and Yuuri realized with a pang of fear that his friend was in too much pain to argue.

It was so dark outside. Streetlamps flashed by every once in a while, glowing an eerie orange. The car was cold and Yuuri regretted not taking his mittens.

The hospital appeared up ahead – a big, square building with a hundred little windows. There was a light in almost every one of them.

Yuuri whispered, “Just a little more,” and got another nod in reply.

Just a little more.

He almost ran to the hospital as soon as the car stopped, but Mr. Nikiforov stepped in front of him. He locked his car, picked Victor up very carefully and carried him to the emergency room.

Yuuri did his best to keep up, wishing he was taller.

Mr. Nikiforov was so tall he was like a giant in comparison to the two skaters. Yuuri couldn’t help thinking how much Victor resembled a doll when he saw with what ease Mr. Nikiforov carried him

The hospital had all kinds of patients – from little children to really old people. The halls had bright lights on the ceilings. Nurses and doctors rushed between rooms, pushing patients around on beds on wheels.

Yuuri stared around wide-eyed, amazed by the sight.

He sat next to Mr. Nikiforov in the emergency room, holding Victor’s healthy hand as the skater sat in his father’s lap and sobbed into his chest.

They didn’t wait long before a nurse called out Victor’s name all properly with his last name as if he was a grown-up and they were sent to a room with a bed.

Mr. Nikiforov put Victor down on the bed and held him. Yuuri kept clinging to Victor’s hand.

Finally a doctor walked in. He asked Mr. Nikiforov and Yuuri to step away and got Victor to pull his jacket and shirt off before tutting over his arm.

He sent for more people. Nurses ran in and out. They took Victor to another room with complicated machines.

Yuuri and Mr. Nikiforov watched everything in silence.

The end result was a white cast over Victor’s arm. He stared at it as the doctor smiled at him and assured him that everything would be fine.

“Can I still skate, doctor?” Victor asked, raising his eyes to the man’s face.

The doctor smiled and said, “Yes, of course you can. You’ll have to use your other arm. Are you alright with that?”

Victor lowered his head again.

“It’s really late now,” the doctor went on, “I want you to stay overnight so I can run some checks on you in the morning. Will you do that for me?”

Victor wiped his nose with his sleeve and nodded without saying anything.

Yuuri sat down on the bed and slid closer to Victor to take his healthy hand again. “I’m staying too.” He looked up at Mr. Nikiforov. “I can, can’t I?”

Mr. Nikiforov smiled. “I’ll talk to your parents about it.” He stared at Victor thoughtfully for several minutes before asking, “Will you look after Victor for me, Yuuri? I’ll go see if there’s a payphone downstairs. I’ll make two quick phone calls and come back.”

“Of course.” Yuuri nodded and watched Victor’s father leave.

“Do you really love skating, Victor?” the doctor asked. There was that note to his voice that adults had that suggested that they expected to hear an answer that would make them laugh. Yuuri heard the tone from adults who didn’t know him all the time.

“I do,” Victor answered, meeting Yuuri’s eye at last. “Yuuri is my partner. We’re supposed to compete in the west Ontario sectionals.” He lowered his head again. “I don’t know if we still can, though. Sorry, Yuuri. I should’ve… should’ve remembered.”

Yuuri shifted closer. “You don’t need to apologize! Ciao-Ciao will figure something out for us, I’m sure of it!”

Victor nodded.

 

Yuuri stayed overnight. He and Victor slept side by side under one blanket. The nurses brought a second pillow for Yuuri and offered more blankets, but one was big enough for both boys.

By the time morning came the whole hospital knew that a boy had broken his arm and was staying in one of the rooms with his figure skating partner.

While the two boys had their breakfast, several people dropped by to take a look at the two skaters and to marvel at their loyalty to each other. They brought treats with them as an excuse for their visit and promised to look for figure skating competitions with them.

By the time Victor was discharged from the hospital he had five bags of food.

Two days later Mr. Cialdini looked at Victor’s cast and said. “We’ll just skip the sectionals and go straight to all-provincials. We’ll have to take a shot at the nationals next year.”

Nationals! The sound of the word alone was enough to fill the boys with a surge of energy. They wanted more than anything to get to the junior nationals and win. And, even knowing that they wouldn’t get a shot at it that season, they worked even harder on their skating.

 

Before long the provincials were upon them. This time their parents bought them something new to wear, so they got the same outfit – a white shirt with a white bowtie and a pair of black pants with a single red stripe down the side. Both of them secretly wanted something flashier with sequins at least, but didn’t dare say a word about it. At least by that time Victor’s cast was removed and he could skate without it.

“Maybe one of us should’ve picked out a dress,” Yuuri whispered into Victor’s ear and Victor scrunched up his face, trying to imagine both of them skating in dresses.

“But wouldn’t that just get in the way?” Victor asked after a while.

Their routine required each movement to be in perfect synch with each other as they went around the rink, holding hands. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like in two dresses.

Another thought occurred to him as they stood at the boards and waited to go out onto the ice: it could make for a nice challenge.

The previous pair finished and they went out onto the ice, going together to the place on the ice where they would have to start.

After that it was just a matter of waiting for the right moment to start and remembering all the steps.

 

Victor and Yuuri stared up at the scoreboard and waited for their results. The numbers appeared and both boys jumped to their feet in amazement.

First! First in all of Ontario!

Victor threw his arms around Yuuri. He closed his eyes and thought about standing on the podium. He couldn’t wait to hold his first ever gold medal in his hand.

Yuuri hugged him back, his hands on Victor’s shoulders. There was the sound of something like a giggle, but Victor kept holding on.

It was a good feeling. It was even better than the one he had when he and Yuuri got to stand at the top of the podium. And it was much, much better than the feeling of sitting in the back of the car next to Yuuri as Mr. Katsuki drove them both home and the medal dangled from his neck.

Mr. Katsuki wasn’t at all like Victor’s father. Victor’s father would’ve used this chance to make jokes, or to ask the boys questions, Victor was sure of it. Mr. Katsuki was a quiet man, prepared to listen carefully to anything anyone told him, or to pretend he wasn’t there when the conversation didn’t concern him.

“Another season,” Yuuri whispered, “and we can try for nationals.”

“We’ll win,” Victor whispered back, “I promise.”

Yuuri gave a little nod.

 

Victor dashed up the stairs, the house phone in one hand and a letter in the other.

As soon as he reached his room and closed the door behind himself, he dialled Yuuri’s home number, priding himself in the fact that he knew it off by heart.

As usual, Mrs. Katsuki answered the phone. “Hello?”

“Good evening, Mrs. Katsuki,” Victor said. “Can I talk to Yuuri, please?”

“Of course you can, Victor,” she said.

He waited for her to call her son, doing his best not to explode from excitement and impatience.

“Victor?” Yuuri’s voice came through at last.

This time Victor didn’t bother with any kind of hello. “Yuuri! Guess what? I got a letter! You’ll never guess who sent it!”

“Skate Canada,” Yuuri guessed, getting it right in one go.

Victor felt himself deflate a little before getting even more enthusiastic than before. “You got one too? Of course you did! Yuuri! We’re supposed to go together!” He jumped onto his bed, unable to contain his excitement any longer. “Yuuri!”

“Victor!”

They almost sang each other’s names from joy.

Victor’s thoughts were an incoherent jumble. He jumped on the bed, laughing and repeating Yuuri’s name over and over again.

“Victor?” someone else called.

He froze and climbed off the bed as quickly as he could. He sat down on it, trying to look like he’d been sitting there the whole time and definitely not jumping up and down. That was his mother’s voice.

He could hear her coming up the stairs now and panicked. Had she heard him jumping on the bed? Was he about to get grounded?

She opened the door and came in. “Victor?” she called a second time. “Peter said that a letter came for you. Who is it from?”

Forgetting about Yuuri for a moment, Victor ran to her and held his letter out. “Yuuri and I were invited to Tomorrow’s Champions!” Victor announced. “Although, I’m not sure I really understand what it is…” he admitted meekly.

His mother took the letter and read it. “It says here that the competition is open to pre-novice and juvenile skaters to help draw attention to promising stars in figure skating.” She laughed. “Come here, my promising star!” She gave him a big kiss.

“Yuuri and I need a new routine!” Victor exclaimed, filled with a sudden sense of urgency, as if the competition was a few days away and not several months like it really was.

He heard Yuuri laugh on the other side of the phone line and remembered about their unfinished conversation.

“Of course we need a new one!” Yuuri told him. “We need a new one for the next season, anyway.”

The parents all wanted to celebrate this, of course, but the two skaters were more worried about their routine and what they would wear.

Two days later when they found out that they would get special team Canada jackets for the event, the skaters went wild with excitement.

 

Both boys spent the months that followed urging time on. Yuuri went to ballet school for another summer. This time Victor tried to get permission to take a bus to Toronto to see him, but for some reason, the argument that he was already ten years old wasn’t convincing enough for his parents, so he had to wait for someone to be free to take him. This meant another summer of training mostly alone, but he didn’t mind as much this time, not when he had Tomorrow’s Champions to look forward to.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, we welcome you to Kelowna, BC, for today’s pre-novice ice dancing segment of Tomorrow’s Champions!” the announcer’s voice boomed loudly over the speakers.

Yuuri and Victor stood at the boards and stared around them, their mouths slightly open as they took it all in. This wasn’t like the arenas they usually trained and competed in. This was no hometown hockey rink with bad lighting and bad ice. This arena was huge and the warmest arena they’d ever been to. For the first time Yuuri didn’t need his mittens while they waited for their turn to go out on the ice.

There was a different atmosphere about the place too. Even the media was here to record this!

They watched the other pairs and whispered to each other.

“Look at how they’re stepping out onto the ice!” Victor said with a note of fascination in his voice.

Yuuri’s eyes followed the skaters’ feet and then he took in their costumes.

Everything was so different. Even the warm ups weren’t the same as what they were used to and, like good students, both skaters picked up on every detail and told each other about it in that way that suggested that they were committing it all to memory.

Afterwards their parents asked them what they’d been talking about and both skaters were too embarrassed to admit the truth.

“We have to bow like that too,” Yuuri whispered and Victor agreed.

They went out onto the ice together, holding hands and skating in sync with each other. As soon as they spotted their parents in the crowd, they waved up at them.

This was the first big trip of their lives, so of course all the parents had to come. More than that, Yuuri and Victor had made their parents promise to go sightseeing in Kelowna after the competition ended. They were especially excited about going on the big bridge they’d spotted out of the car windows, and taking pictures everywhere in their team Canada jackets.

Like the other skaters, they went to stand at the boards to listen to their coach talk before their routine started. They used to talk to Mr. Cialdini right before going out onto the ice, but now they had to do everything properly like grown-ups.

Victor’s eyes were on the stands. He’d never seen them so full before, or with so many rows of seats and the realization terrified him.

Mr. Cialdini’s voice boomed through the waves of terror, bringing Victor back to the present. “Hel-lo! We’re at the national championships!”

He felt Yuuri squeeze his hand and turned to look at his coach.

 

Their children were so small! Dina watched Victor’s eyes glaze over in terror and worried. Everyone else was older and taller. Many of them seemed more confident and more experienced than Yuuri and Victor.

But when all those teams went out on the ice something strange happened. Dina sat through all the routines without saying a word, trying to figure out what it was.

When Yuuri and Victor were getting ready to go, she finally said, “I watched them practice this routine before and I can’t help thinking that they’re on a different level from the rest of this group.”

“Hmmm,” Alexei hummed in agreement, “I was just thinking the same thing myself. They’re either all really bad, or our boys are really good, and I don’t think these skaters are bad.”

They exchanged a look and sat in silence.

The thought hung in the air that this was ice dancing where the judging didn’t only depend on how good the team was. Who knew what marks they would give out?

Victor and Yuuri skated out to the middle, getting a couple of “aww”s from the audience.

Someone behind Dina made a joke about little children winning by appealing to the judges’ sympathy.

The parents sat in stony silence.

The music began to play and the pair went around the ice rink in a circle, not letting go of each other’s hands, striding over the ice as if they were just strolling over the ice. Each movement was clean, each stroke perfectly timed to the music. They went as one around and around. Yuuri did a little spin, then Victor did one and they continued their synchronized skate.

Dina felt a glow of pride. Her Victor, _her_ _son_ , was down there.

Both boys remembered to smile and look at the audience. But it wasn’t just a smile on his face because he was performing. He was really enjoying himself out there.

_This is what you’re meant to do,_ she suddenly thought. _That’s your calling._

When the music ended the boys stopped and the audience rewarded them with loud and enthusiastic applause.

They looked around with some embarrassment, as if they’d forgotten that they were performing in front of an audience.

And then the points were announced and all four parents rose to cheer for their children at once. First with a big lead!

The second dance was scheduled in a few hours, giving them a short break, during which the parents had to wait anxiously before it was their children’s turn again.

Their second win came as no surprise to anyone this time.

 

Victor and Yuuri stood on the podium, grinning from ear to ear. Even standing on the raised step made for first place, they were shorter than the pairs in second and third place. But what did that matter when they’d won? Actually won?

“And now we’d like a group photo, please,” someone from the media called out.

The skaters posed as best as they could.

“Can you move closer, please?” that same person called out.

Victor raised his arms to try to catch everyone in a big hug. He’d overestimated his own height and found himself stretching his arms as far as possible in both directions. Next to him, Yuuri was trying to do the same.

“Can you all say “Canada” for me, please?” a man with a camera asked.

Six enthusiastic voices exclaimed “Canada!” just a second off from one another and several cameras flashed.

Victor stepped off the podium and, on a whim, started a tradition that would stay with him for the rest of his life – he held out his hand to help Yuuri climb off after him.

 

Dina saw her son speed across the ice with Yuuri next to him and rushed down from her seat to meet him. The whole arena watched, but what did she care?

She managed to beat all the other parents to the ice and got to hug both the young champions at the same time.

“That was wonderful! I’m so proud of both of you!” she said and kissed them both on the forehead.

Victor and Yuuri grinned up at her. They were holding each other’s hands and she realized that even when they’d sped across the ice they held on to each other. In fact, they’d held hands whenever she saw them that evening, even when they were drinking water before their last skate.

None of the other teams had done that. Some of them looked relieved to be finally allowed to let each other go.

It occurred to Dina as she released them and watched Alexei ruffle the boy’s heads with a big grin that Mr. Cialdini hadn’t exaggerated to flatter her and the other parents. It wasn’t just Victor and Yuuri’s calling to skate together. It was their calling to win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now it’s time to start posting links to videos to help with the visuals of their routines. Here are [two](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UD8algIDki8) [videos](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=clEs1FVPSho) of Tessa and Scott from 1998 (for reference this chapter is set in 1998-2000).
> 
> If anyone draws anything like this with Yuuri and Victor, I will be eternally grateful. I don’t know what I can bribe you with… But maybe you can tell me? Hahaha
> 
> Also, for anyone who is curious, my current estimate is that this fic will be 25ish chapters long, which probably means that I won't be done until the new year, but I'll do my best to update frequently!


	7. Tango

There was a big party at the house of the Nikiforovs to celebrate the boys’ big victory.

Mrs. Nikiforov invited friends and neighbours this time and got all her sons to help prepare the house. This time she kept a close eye on Victor, worried he’d get hurt a second time.

But Victor remained unharmed. Perhaps, this was due to Dina keeping him from making any of the food, or maybe Victor himself had learned to be careful.

Either way, the evening went perfectly. The food was ready and set out on the table to Dina’s satisfaction. The guests all came and everyone had a good time.

They put some music on and Yuuri walked over to his coach’s assistant to invite her to a dance.

She laughed and accepted.

The guests all turned to watch a nine-year-old and a twenty-three year-old who was twice his height dance.

“You need to come up with four dance steps,” Yuuri explained, smiling up at his instructor, “and then I’ll come up with four.”

Victor watched, his hands wrapped around the back of his chair. It looked like a really fun game, but he didn’t dare interfere.

One of the things he’d learned over the course of their training was that Yuuri was much better at inventing dance steps than he, Victor, was. Yuuri had probably decided that the game wouldn’t be as fun with him. It made Victor sad, of course, but how could he hope to argue against this?

So he watched Yuuri twirl and walk around and did his best to cheer for his partner.

After an hour or so of this, the assistant gave in and called Victor over to take her place.

He was more than happy to join Yuuri and, at everyone’s insistence, the two of them repeated their routines on the floor as best as they could.

 

Yuuri and Victor continued to train hard and do their best. They made their way to the pre-novice nationals the following season and, despite all the years of history that said that not a single pair won their first pre-novice nationals, they claimed the gold medal.

Maybe it helped that they didn’t know about this rule, or, perhaps, the judges decided it was time to do away with that rule, but – and this was more likely – it’s also possible that their figure skating spoke for itself and had been more convincing than anything else.

After the awards ceremony and standing on the podium with skaters who towered over them, they gave their first ever televised interview.

 

Victor fidgeted nervously. “What am I supposed to say?” he asked his coach, watching the press set up to start recording.

Mr. Cialdini grinned. “Just be honest. Tell them how winning made you feel.”

The skaters both nodded, but Victor could still feel nervousness bubble in the bottom of his stomach. It was worse than how he’d felt before Tomorrow’s Champions.

“Ready?” one of the journalists asked them.

He nodded again and watched Yuuri nod next to him.

The cameras pointed at him and the journalist held out a microphone. “How do you feel about today’s victory?”

“It really means a lot. We’ve been working pretty hard all year, so it all pays off in the end,” Victor said and nodded, hoping that was enough and he wouldn’t need to say anymore.

“Yeah, we trained really hard and… um… we’ve been hoping for this for quite a while,” Yuuri added. “It’s a really good experience.” He could hear his voice tremble a little and realized how nervous his partner was.

And just like that it was over. Victor had trembled in fear, expecting a long interview, but they recorded those words and left, as if they’d heard all they needed to hear.

Victor breathed out in relief and, together with Yuuri, made for the change rooms.

 

It seemed so simple after that – win every competition and climb up to novice, then junior, until they could finally compete at the senior level.

But life is rarely that straightforward.

 

“Victor?” Yuuri called. He was in the change rooms of the Arena.

Despite all the trips to Kitchener as well as a few to Waterloo, they still got most of their on ice time at their home arena in Ilderton.

That day Yuuri had come at the same time as always, but, for some reason, he couldn’t find Victor anywhere.

Was the boy hiding somewhere? Was this part of some new game?

He spent a good half hour searching everywhere he could think of before giving up and practicing alone.

When Victor did finally arrive he said something about losing track of time and didn’t really apologize. Yuuri did his best not to think about it.

After it happened three more times, Yuuri started to worry. Each time Victor arrived, acting as if everything was fine, as if it was no big deal, but that only troubled Yuuri more.

 

“Let’s talk about today’s practice,” Mr. Cialdini suggested after another long practice filled with many frustrations.

It had been a disaster. Yuuri moved to the music, but Victor didn’t follow it at all. He kept forgetting his steps and inventing different ones in an attempt to cover up his blunder.

The assistant had taken the day off. She’d sounded very sick over the phone.

“I think Victor isn’t taking practice seriously anymore,” Yuuri declared.

Yuuri said the words in a calm tone of voice, as if it was no big deal, but Mr. Cialdini knew him well enough to spot the signs: Yuuri was very angry. Why else would he drop words like that?

“I am!” Victor protested. “You’re the one who kept making mistakes today!”

“You always come late to practice at home,” Yuuri continued. “If you don’t care about skating anymore, why don’t you just say it?” He didn’t raise his voice and somehow this made him even more terrifying. “I don’t want a partner who isn’t serious about skating.”

Victor gaped at him with his mouth opened. “Fine!” he exclaimed. “Don’t be my partner! It’s not my fault you’re bad at making friends and only care about skating!”

“Boys! Boys!” Mr. Cialdini interfered, seriously scared they were on the verge of physically fighting each other.

Yuuri turned away. “I want to go home,” he said.

Mr. Cialdini drove them home himself this time. For the first time, Yuuri sat in the passenger seat at the front while Victor sat in the back. The boys remained quiet throughout the entire ride. Mr. Cialdini put some music on in an attempt to fill the car with a nice and peaceful noise.

Mr. Cialdini had called Hiroko and Dina before driving out and the two mothers met him at the Arena in Ilderton, looking anxious. Mr. Cialdini hadn’t explained much apart from assuring both of them that no one had gotten injured.

“What happened?” Hiroko asked as soon as the car stopped before them and Yuuri got out.

He ran into his mother’s embrace. “I hate skating!” he shouted. “I don’t ever want to go it again!”

Hiroko did her best to calm him down, but Yuuri couldn’t stop crying. She crouched down beside him and rubbed his back soothingly.

After a few minutes of this she gave in to the inevitable. “Let’s go home,” she said. “You’re tired. You need some rest.”

“I never want to skate with you again!” Victor shouted at Yuuri. “You suck at skating! You’re really boring and no one wants to be your friend because you’re so boring!”

Yuuri turned around and glared at him. “I hate you! I never want to see you ever again!”

Hiroko took him away, leaving Dina behind to question Mr. Cialdini about what had happened.

 

Fighting is never pleasant for anyone involved, not the two sides doing the actual fighting and definitely not for all the innocent bystanders.

Yuuri locked himself away in his room, refusing to see anyone. His mind was full of many bitter thoughts. Never had he been this betrayed in his life! And by the person he’d learned to trust most too!

Yuuri thought again of his dream. Was there really no way for him to see it through?

Two weeks went by before he appeared in the Ilderton Arena again. He went up to Svetlana right away and asked her politely if she could find him a new partner.

She stared at him in amazement, too stunned for words.

“Please,” he said, “I want to keep skating, but…” He stared down at his feet. “I don’t think Victor and I can skate together anymore.”

Svetlana had already heard the story about their fighting from Dina. She tried to reason with Yuuri, but the boy remained adamant. The best she could do was to avoid promising anything definite.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she told Yuuri and watched him skate away with his shoulders lowered.

 

Victor came much later, just barely missing Yuuri.

Svetlana watched her nephew go around in circles on the ice with his head lowered and a dejected air about him. She wished she knew how to help her two pupils, but this was something they had to sort out themselves.

 

Yuuri missed two weeks’ worth of trips to Kitchener. He avoided Victor at the Arena and never called. In short, he did everything to show Victor that their partnership was over.

At first Victor acted like this was good and told himself that he didn’t want to see Yuuri, let alone skate with him anymore. Yuuri wasn’t cool, unlike his school friends.

“Whatever,” Victor would say to his parents every time they mentioned Yuuri. It was a new word he’d learned from his friends. “Whatever.”

His friends all talked about cartoons they watched on TV and fun trips to theme parks. Love was dismissed as gross and friendship had very well-defined boundaries. And Yuuri didn’t fit into those boundaries. He was younger too, which (according to Victor’s friends) counted against him.

But after another week like this passed Victor found himself heading for the phone to call Yuuri and tell him about the funny cartoon he’d watched that day.

Except that Yuuri wouldn’t talk to him.

He wanted to sit and watch it with him. More than that – he wanted to go skating with Yuuri again. He missed that wonderful feeling when they moved on the ice in sync with each other. He missed their private conversations together, all those times when they’d trusted each other with their deepest secrets.

 

The next day he came to the Arena, determined to spend the whole day waiting for Yuuri to come.

As soon as the boy did, he ran out onto the ice and caught him by both hands.

“Yuuri! Yuuri, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean it! Any of it! Please, will you be my friend again?”

Yuuri flung his arms around Victor’s neck and wept. He drew long shuddering breaths after each sob as he cried.

Victor stood helplessly with his arms flung out on either side of him. “I promise not to say rude things anymore,” he said, “so please be my partner again.”

Yuuri pulled away and looked into Victor’s face. His eyes were red. He rubbed his nose with his sleeve. “I want to skate with you,” he said.

Victor, happy that the boy hadn’t pushed him away, took him by the hands again and they went around the rink together.

There was an odd feeling as if something that had been very wrong was finally put right.

 

Two weeks later they fought again. In fact, the whole spring seemed to be filled with nothing but fighting. Victor went through different obsessions, but each time he introduced Yuuri to them, Yuuri told him that he’d rather go skate. Victor got personally offended every time and shouted rude things at his partner in return. Tears and insults followed on both sides and they would go their separate ways with a huff, convinced that this time it was it. Later one of them apologized and the cycle started all over again.

Victor liked skating, he really did, but sometimes he felt as if he hated it more than everything else in the world. His friends came to school with all these new and fascinating toys, but when he got one himself, Yuuri refused to play with him.

At the end of spring Mr. Cialdini and his assistant sat the two boys down and explained things as best as they could.

“People are different. Even twins aren’t exactly the same. Everyone has different things they like, so don’t get upset when your partner doesn’t like what you like. But you also need to learn to give each other’s interests a chance,” the assistant looked at Yuuri. “You’re partners and that means that you’ll need to find ways to keep you both happy. It’s not fair for one person to be miserable all the time, right?”

They nodded together.

“The two of you are more than just friends, alright? You are in a professional partnership. Remember that if you keep going, the media will come for more interviews. Do you want to see a newspaper article about yourself doing something embarrassing?” she asked.

They both shook their heads.

“Good,” Mr. Cialdini said with a solemn nod. “Now I want you two to think about figure skating: do you want to keep going, or is this it? No one is forcing you to do any of this, remember.”

Victor watched Yuuri exclaim, “I want to keep going!” without even stopping to think. As always, the boy knew exactly what he wanted.

 _I want to keep going,_ Victor thought. He knew how much better it felt to be with Yuuri than without him. “I do,” he said with a serious face. “I’m…” He looked at Yuuri. “I know it’s hard. Sorry.”

Yuuri took his hand. “I’m sorry too. We’re still best friends, right? And friends will always forgive each other.”

 

It was so hard for Yuuri. At one point he’d become convinced that he’d have to let his dream go and to settle for something else. Perhaps, a career as a singles skater wasn’t too bad, he tried to tell himself.

He sat in his room and worried that it wouldn’t work out between them after all. They were too different. Weren’t all these fights proof enough of that? Should he just stop trying and find someone else?

But finding someone else meant starting from the beginning with them.

Summer began and Victor seemed to calm down at last. The last week of school Victor was kinder than ever before. It wasn’t long before he confessed why.

“Please don’t go to ballet school over the summer,” Victor begged one morning before practice.

They sat alone in the change room of the Ilderton Arena.

Yuuri stopped tying his laces and sat up to look at Victor. “What?”

“It gets so lonely when you leave.” Victor took Yuuri’s hand and looked into his partner’s face. “I promise not to fight, or hurt your feelings, so please say you’ll stay.”

Yuuri nodded. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll stay.”

 

That summer Mr. Cialdini and his assistant came up with a very challenging routine, hoping it would help keep the boys from fighting.

Victor and Yuuri watched with their mouths slightly open as their coaches went out onto the ice and moved with unbelievable speed. When they finished the boys broke out into applause.

“What do you think?” Mr. Cialdini asked. “Can you do it?”

This was the year the boys moved up to the novice level and both of them knew that they needed an adult routine to compete against everyone else. Adult meant something emotional and passionate, even if neither of the boys had ever skated anything like that before. To top it all off, this would be their first ever competition with a free dance, which made it all the more exciting.

They exchanged a look.

“We can give it a try?” Victor said and Yuuri nodded.

The routine was a Cancan-Tango medley. The steps were hard even at a slower pace and the coaches started the skaters off on the floor in their shoes.

All summer long they worked at this dance, but learning and mastering the steps was only part of the challenge. The second part was making it look convincing.

But how does someone explain passion to a ten and twelve-year-old? Not just devotion, but the kind of passion that led to careless abandon and foolish mistakes? They needed to show something with infinite depth.

This time Yuuri was the one who struggled with the artistic component. No one knew where Victor found so much passion to skate with, but Yuuri just couldn’t do it.

 

Another warm summer evening descended on the Earth.

Yuuri and Victor sat in the field behind Victor’s house and tore blades of grass out absent-mindedly.

“How do you skate like that?” Yuuri asked. “Can you teach me?”

“I don’t know,” Victor admitted. “I don’t think about any of that stuff the coaches said. It’s just… a feeling, you know? I just imagine what it must be like and try to skate it.”

Yuuri gave him a puzzled look. “No, I don’t know.”

Victor stared back with his mouth slightly open. “But… I thought…” He frowned. “What do you usually do?”

“I,” Yuuri picked up a blade of grass and fiddled with it, “I try to imagine a story, just like the coaches always say. But I can’t really imagine a story this time.”

“Let’s ask someone for help,” Victor suggested.

“Who?”

Victor considered an internal list of people. “We can go to the library. Maybe they have some dancing videos? If we watch other people dance, it might help you understand how to do it.”

Yuuri liked the sound of this idea and agreed right away.

The next day they left the Ilderton Arena together and made straight for the library.

 

It had been a quiet day at the Ilderton Public Library. The librarian sat at the front desk, ready for another quiet afternoon at work.

Two boys ran up to the lady with expressions of panic on both of their faces.

“Miss! Please, can you help us?” the taller one exclaimed.

“Yes, pretty please!” the shorter one pleaded.

She gave them both a warning look over the top of her glasses. “This is a library not a playground. Please keep your voices down and don’t run around. Now what is it?” she asked, preparing herself for a long argument about library fines.

“…uh…” The boys exchanged a look.

“I want to learn how to tango,” the younger boy finally spoke up. “And I was wondering if I could borrow a video tape with a recording.”

She felt her glasses slide down her nose. The two boys were barely ten years old, maybe 12. They were both far too young to learn something like tango!

“Absolutely not!” she exclaimed and then repeated the words in a whisper, remembering where she was. “Where are your parents?” she asked, looking around, as if expecting them to appear any moment.

“Please,” the taller one insisted. “We have a very important competition in the winter and Yuuri wanted to watch a video or two to help him improve. You see, he can’t get the artistic part right.”

The librarian pursed her lips. “Where are your parents?” she finally asked.

The boy whose name was Yuuri lowered his head. “Waiting at the Ilderton Arena,” he admitted.

“Then I suggest that you return to them,” the librarian said sternly.

“Wait,” the second boy said, “aren’t you supposed to help people?”

“Only with appropriate requests!” she snapped back.

“You don’t believe us,” the taller boy went on. He held his hands out to the shorter boy. “Let’s show her, Yuuri.”

Yuuri nodded with a smile.

To the librarian’s great amazement, the boys broke out into a dance right in front of her eyes. It was a tango, as far as she could tell with her limited knowledge of dancing.

She opened her mouth to demand that they stop dancing in the library when she saw the two boys turn together and walk in sync before turning back around, taking each other’s hands and continuing the dance.

There was so much innocent enjoyment on their faces that it was impossible to call the dance inappropriate.

The librarian watched to the end when someone’s applause made her turn her head to silence the person.

It was an elderly gentleman she saw every day in her library. “I thought you kids looked familiar,” he said. “You’re Yuuri and Victor, right?”

They nodded, giving him surprised looks.

“I saw you win the pre-novices. That was one amazing skate!” He clapped both of them on their backs. “I didn’t know you trained in the library!”

“We’re not training,” the taller boy admitted. “We asked to borrow a tango video and the librarian said we’re too young for tango!”

“Too young?” the man chuckled.

“Please, sir,” the younger boy piped up. “It’s an emergency!”

“Are you two working on your routine for the next season?” he asked, looking from one boy to the other.

As one the boys nodded.

“Very well then, you heard the boys. Can you help them, please?” the old man said to the librarian. “You never know: you could be holding the future of figure skating in your hands.”

The librarian couldn’t argue after that. She searched the system for everything about tango and, to her surprise, the boys borrowed nearly all of it.

They returned most of it two days later, talking excitedly about the dance and even discussing a bit of its history. They asked about the Cancan next and this time she gave them what they wanted without argument.

 

That year Tomorrow’s Champions added a novice championship to their list of competitions. Pairs travelled all the way to Newfoundland to compete against each other.

The favourites for gold, a pair with several years of experience and also the previous year’s winners in novice competitions, skated confidently onto the ice, having no doubt that they would be the ones to win.

But then Victor and Yuuri stepped out onto the ice and a whisper passed through the audience. They’d won every competition on their way to the nationals.

This time they, too, moved with the confidence of a pair that had no doubts in their abilities.

Their compulsory dance was the fastest out of all the competitors. The audience couldn’t shake the feeling that one person controlled both of them even until the end when they bowed to the audience.

Again, all four parents came to watch their children compete. They cheered as loud as they could, startling everyone around them.

The sight of their children performing as a team again, cheered them all up tremendously and they promised each other to help them stay together.

“I just can’t imagine either of them with anyone else,” Hiroko admitted.

Alexei chuckled. “Should we treat each other like future in-laws then?”

There was a long silence after those words as all the parents contemplated their meaning.

 

“Now, listen here,” Mr. Cialdini said to his pupils as they stood on the ice, the boards between them and their coach, “we’re here to stake out future ground and show everyone what they’d never seen before, but that doesn’t mean you two can’t have any fun.”

Yuuri and Victor grinned at each other. “Ok.”

“Great. Now go out there and make me proud!”

 

What is tango? It’s a type of dance, but its origins or those of its name can barely hope to explain what it’s like to see a real tango performed in person.

“I want a dress like this,” Yuuri had announced one morning, holding up a photo of a tango dancer in a long dress, and got what he’d asked for (with a few alterations here and there).

They weren’t going for cute anymore. The time for cute was over, now was the time for something more serious.

Yuuri raised his head as the music started to play and looked at Victor. Victor held out his hand and Yuuri took it.

They started out slow, moving across the ice to the music and then it picked up the pace and so did they. They moved side by side, not holding each other anymore. The audience held their breath and the two dancers twizzled with careless abandon.

When everyone least expected it, the music exploded into a Cancan and the boys raised their legs together.

Were those the same children who’d gotten loud “awws” from the audience year after year? Was it at all possible that they’d spent all spring fighting for all kinds of silly reasons when they seemed to understand each other so well here?

The parents stared at their own children in disbelief.

There were two little flames on the ice now.

Victor, who’d come from a long line of people who’d all lived their lives in a freezing northern climate, was moving like a hot-blooded man ready to strangle someone from jealousy.

Yuuri, shy and innocent Yuuri, skated like someone who held the heart of every man and woman in the world.

Victor pulled him close and the audience held their collective breaths again.

Yuuri slipped under Victor’s legs and came out the other side. They circled the rink to get to their last element. One of them stumbled and they fell together. The audience gave a collective groan.

But they got up and kept going, as if they hadn’t fallen at all.

Their coaches had told them many times that everyone fell during a competition and that the most important thing when you fell was to get up and keep going. Leave the thinking about why you fell for later, the coaches always said. So the boys kept going.

They did their best to smile even as they reached the end of the skate and bowed to the audience.

When their marks were posted they both felt the weight of their mistake. They could’ve been in first place, but the fall had led to deductions, throwing them back down into third place.

Mr. Cialdini threw his arms around them. “Third place!” he boomed. “I’m so proud of both of you!”

They did their best to smile back at him, but Victor wasn’t happy with third place and Yuuri could see it.

Still the boys went on smiling for their coach, and then for their parents and finally for the cameras.

 

The next day, when they were all alone, they admitted to each other that they wished they’d done better.

“We could’ve won!” Victor insisted.

Yuuri didn’t argue. He was impatient to go over the skate with his coaches to figure out what they’d done wrong.

But Victor was still stuck on regret. He paced back and forth in front of Yuuri. “We could’ve done so much better!”

Skate Canada seemed to think the same thing, because two weeks later an invitation came for them to attend a novice event held in Vienna, Austria. It wasn’t held by the ISU, but many of its judges were bound to be there and, well, Yuuri and Victor were more excited about going to a different country than anything else.

They were off for Vienna!

 

Not many cities can rival Vienna in beauty and grandness. For two boys who’d only ever been to a handful of cities in Canada and barely left their own province a few times, Vienna was a fairy-tale come to life.

They sat with their noses pressed against the car windows as a taxi took them to their hotel. “Look at that!” they kept exclaiming and jumped between the two windows, eager to get a glimpse of everything.

Forgetting what they were here for, they spent the better part of two days running around Vienna, taking in the sights and snapping pictures everywhere. It was, without a doubt, their greatest adventure yet.

They’d learned the meaning of jet lag when the two of them collapsed in the middle of the day from fatigue, but they didn’t let that dampen their spirits.

Vienna was where they got a feel, for the first time, for how many figure skaters there were in the world. They watched in amazement as skaters from countries they’d never heard of went out onto the ice. And, of course, there were a fair number of Russian skaters there as well.

“Doesn’t it feel a little strange to be competing against them?” Yuuri whispered.

Victor gave him a wide-eyed look. “Why? We’re all competing against each other, regardless of the country we’re from. Aren’t we?”

“Yeah, but…”

“There are Japanese skaters here too,” Victor pointed out with a little nod of his head.

Yuuri turned to look. “I’ve never even been to Japan,” he whispered after a while.

“And I’ve never been to Russia,” Victor told him, “but if we continue to compete, maybe they’ll send us there sometime?”

Yuuri met Victor’s eye and nodded. “That would be wonderful!” He thought of the little town named Hasetsu where most of his family had come from while Victor thought something similar about St. Petersburg.

“I don’t know what the rules are,” Victor said after a long pause. “I suppose we can always ask Ciao-Ciao, but I don’t want to represent another country.”

“Mmm,” Yuuri nodded.

Remembering one of Mr. Cialdini’s lectures, Victor watched each pair go out on the ice closely and every time he had the same question in his mind: how could they beat everyone competing against them?

 

Yuuri and Victor gave a stellar performance with their compulsory dance. There hadn’t been a single mistake, but the free skate let them down a second time.

They started off on a good, strong note and the first 40 seconds went well. They were about 10 seconds into the Cancan when everything fell apart, as if the realization that they hadn’t gotten enough practice for this skate dawned on both of them at the same time. They weren’t in sync with each other anymore and they kept throwing looks at each other, trying to catch up to each other and only making it worse with each passing second. They went around the rink, feeling as if they were just chasing each other, forgetting about the roles they were meant to play and barely even remembering their steps.

When their scores were announced they didn’t even get enough points to land on the podium.

Victor groaned in frustration. Yuuri shook his head.

But Mr. Cialdini clutched both of his pupils close. “That was very good!” he told both of them and rubbed their shoulders. “Next time you’ll both do better, hmm?”

They nodded, continuing to look dejected.

“I’m willing to bet all my money,” Mr. Cialdini told both of them softly, “that the media will mostly write about you two, so prepare your best smiles for the cameras and think about what you will say.”

Victor turned away. Instead of listening to his coach, he looked over to where everyone was congratulating the winners on their gold medal.

One of the skaters turned his head and for a moment Victor made eye contact with him.

His partner called his name and he turned to give her a happy hug.

Victor bit his lower lip. He would remember the names of the people who’d beaten them that day. One day he would face them again on the ice and win.

Yes, he would definitely remember their names: Georgi and Anya of Russia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [For anyone who wants to see the pre-novice championships as well as Tessa and Scott's first TV interview](https://youtu.be/Wy38EleBZ2s?t=163).
> 
> I searched for a long time for a video of the Cancan/Tango routine and couldn’t find it. If anyone reading this has a link, please leave it in the comments! I really want to see this routine. I bet it was amazing!


	8. Russian Medley

Another skating season came to a close this time with something like a little earthquake – the vote buying scandal in ice dancing at the Salt Lake City Olympic Games came to light and shocked many people to their core. The whole judging system was suddenly called into question.

For many people the future seemed uncertain. For Yuuri and Victor there was still no question about it.

The Katsukis and the Nikiforovs gathered at the Katsukis’ house this time and while the children all ran around outside and played the adults talked. Svetlana had been invited as well, along with the two coaches.

“What I want to know,” said Alexei, “is what is our end goal here?”

“End goal?” several adults echoed.

“Look, I know sport isn’t exactly like that, but well…” Alexei gestured vaguely with his arm. “…are we aiming for senior nationals, or Worlds, or what?”

“They have their eyes on the Olympics,” Celestino announced. “They act like it’s a great secret, but I heard them whisper amongst themselves about it more than once.”

“Olympics?” Dina echoed. “Is that realistic?”

“I don’t see why not,” Celestino said and gave a kind of shrug. “They work hard and they have lots of talent. Only problem is: that commute is taking a lot of their time.”

“Olympics…” Dina repeated, giving her husband a look.

The question wasn’t just about the Olympics. A lot of Canadians had their eyes on the news, waiting for the announcement of who would get the honour of hosting the 2010 Winter Games. Vancouver in Canada was bidding for that year, having already lost once.

Celestino, seeing their reactions and understanding perfectly what was going through their minds, hurried to reassure them, “There is no reason why they can’t be in the 2010 Olympics.”

In the 2010 Olympics to compete on their home turf…

“What were you saying about the commute?” Hiroko asked. She’d been listening carefully to every word said. She was also convinced that it wasn’t a good idea to speculate on what might be and refrained from saying anything about the Olympics.

“I propose that they move to Waterloo,” Celestino said. “It will give them more time to practice. It also means more time to rest. That trip back and forth is very exhausting.”

None of the parents could argue with that. They’d all seen their children fall asleep in the back of the car especially on days when they had to wake up extra early. But to let them move away and live on their own…

“I think we should call them here and ask what they think,” Toshiya suggested.

“Yes, of course,” Celestino agreed, but he was sure that he already knew the answer they would give.

It took only an hour of knowing the pair to be able to predict the answer they would give. So it came as no surprise that both of the boys agreed with barely even a moment to think.

“Are you sure?” Dina asked. “How will you live far away from home?”

Victor wrapped an arm around Yuuri. “We’ll look after each other,” he promised, and, realizing that this wasn’t enough, he added, “we won’t fight, not anymore.”

The parents tried to argue. They pointed out all those little things that people had to deal with when they lived away from home, but Yuuri and Victor stuck to their choice.

They would move away and nothing could persuade them to stay.

 

On a cold spring morning, on their last commute to Kitchener for practice, Victor stood before Bethel Church and waited for Yuuri.

He turned over the last few competitions in his mind and an odd thought occurred to him.

Victor raised his eyes to the church’s dark silhouette and made a solemn vow, “I’ll give up everything for skating,” he whispered fervently. “I’ll remain focused and I’ll see it through to the end. Yuuri and I will make it to the Olympics and we’ll win.”

He closed his eyes and felt his heart harden with determination. No more goofing off. No more cartoons and obsessions. No more silly games. No more _distractions_. Only skating and nothing else.

As always, it was one thing to plan and quite another – to act on it.

Victor found it hard. Despite everything, he missed his school friends and all the games they used to play together.

Yuuri and Victor both moved to live with figure skating families in Waterloo. Even that had come as a bit of a shock to Victor, who’d imagined Yuuri and himself sharing an apartment and doing all the housework on their own. It did, however, put all the parents at ease.

 

It was the end of another tiring day. Victor stumbled into the room that had become his and dropped onto his bed with a sigh. He put his hands over his eyes as the memories washed over him.

 

_“What you want to show in this dance,” Mr. Cialdini said, “is intimacy. You can’t be without each other. You need each other. That’s why you’re always close and you can’t let go of each other even for a second.”_

_Yuuri came right up to Victor, one knee bent as his forehead touched Victor’s and Victor felt his partner’s breath on his face. Their bodies were almost touching._

_He closed his own eyes and thought about his coach’s words. There was no need to pretend: they were all true. Yuuri’s presence was his only source of comfort and he needed his partner to be with him now more than ever._

_He could’ve never gotten this far on his own. The thought crystalized in his mind and he held on to it, thinking of all those early morning car trips. If he’d stuck to singles skating, he would’ve given up by now, he was sure of it._

_He clung to Yuuri like a lifeline._

_Mr. Cialdini clapped, apparently happy with the result._

_Yuuri and Victor pulled apart and circled each other._

_They hadn’t even talked about costumes yet, but Victor imagined Yuuri in something red and cut at the thigh. The two of them had watched enough tango videos for Victor to imagine the dancers’ dresses without thinking. His mind added frills on the sleeves and going across Yuuri’s chest. He himself would be in a well-fitted suit, of course, that was all black with a white shirt and a red tie to match the dress on Yuuri._

_When the time came, they ended up wearing something different. It was light blue and not red, but that didn’t matter this time._

_This practice they weren’t focusing on the choreography or the jumps. Mr. Cialdini wanted them to capture the right mood before getting down to the details of their compulsory dance, which was why they weren’t even out on the ice, but on a dance floor._

_They continued to circle each other._

_Yuuri had really gotten the hang of his part. They both knew they’d have to play these roles time and again and so they took care learning how to play them better. That tango had been their first time at trying to be intimate, but they both felt like it needed more work._

_“Good! I think you’re ready for the ice now,” Mr. Cialdini said, clapping his hands together._

_The boys stopped where they were to exchange a pair of happy grins._

_The coach drove them to the ice rink where he and his assistant showed them what their new program looked like._

_It didn’t look like it would be easy, but when did that ever stop Yuuri or Victor?_

He pulled his hands off his face and stared up at the ceiling. There wasn’t much in his room – a bed and a table covered with a few of his stuff from school where he could do his homework. It had been a nursery once and there were still a few stars stuck to the wall here and there, but most of them had fallen off a long time ago.

Victor stared at one of the stars now. He hadn’t noticed it when he’d first come into the room, but when he’d turned his lights off to try and sleep the little thing had lit up in the dark, drawing his attention to it right away. He would never admit it, of course, but a part of him was still terrified of the dark and the glowing stars had helped in some way he couldn’t describe.

He stared at it now, wondering if he was too old for glow in the dark stars.

Apparently they weren’t old enough to move up to juniors yet and Victor thought of the pair that had beaten them. They would be in all the junior events, he was sure of it. It would be another two years before he and Yuuri got a chance at something of a rematch.

He sighed. He and Yuuri were still the smallest skaters in all the competitions. More than that, with their birthdays at the end of the year it made him feel as if they were always chasing everyone else born in the same years as them.

The family that had taken him in was nice, but he felt really awkward around them, as if he owed them a debt he could never hope to repay. Sometimes he felt even worse and couldn’t shake the feeling that he was nothing more than a nuisance. It didn’t help that his mother called every day to check up on him, or that he and Yuuri called each other in the evenings, despite spending a whole day together.

He had homework to do and he would probably be called down for dinner soon, but he continued to lie on the bed, replaying that dance in his mind.

 

“Next on the ice – Yuuri Katsuki and Victor Nikiforov, representing Canada!” the announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers.

Victor felt his heart beat faster in his chest as he and Yuuri skated out with their hands raised to wave at the audience.

“Did you hear that?” Yuuri whispered next to him.

He gave a small nod. There was something magical about not just hearing your name, but also hearing the name of your country after it. It added a little bit of importance to the whole thing.

He straightened up a little.

It was almost as exciting as the moment when someone came to stick little flags on their skates. He and Yuuri had been ready to burst from happiness.

Now here they were with the country’s name after theirs.

 _Focus,_ Victor told himself.

They skated to their starting place and froze, waiting for the music.

The audience – that big, impossibly big audience – went quiet and Victor felt excitement course through his veins. He wanted to please them more than anything. He wanted them all to watch and enjoy what they were seeing.

He felt a shiver pass through Yuuri and knew that his partner was feeling something very similar.

The music began and off they went.

It was probably hard for someone out there to skate so close to another person. They would have to think about where to put their feet to avoid getting in the way of their partner. But Victor barely spared it a moment’s thought. He could skate a big part of the routine (if not all of it) with his eyes closed. He and Yuuri had an instinct for it, always knowing where their partner was.

They let the music tell them what to do and focused on their partner in a different way.

 _You are my everything,_ Victor’s body language said and Yuuri responded in kind. So much could be said with just a look, or a short touch, or the way their legs moved together on the ice, drawing out circles that gave the impression of getting closer with every second.

There was something about the way Yuuri leaned on Victor, as if he was handing his whole self over, that made something tighten in Victor’s chest. He accepted Yuuri without even having time to wonder what that something was.

And then their dance was over and they stood with their hands around each other, trying to catch their breath.

He knew his parents were out there somewhere in that giant audience and he could hear everyone screaming their names, but his thoughts were all on Yuuri.

“We did it!” Yuuri exclaimed, still a little breathless.

Victor nodded with a smile.

They remembered about the audience and turned to give them a bow. First they bowed in one direction, then they spun around and bowed in the other, remembering to start with the side with the judges, just like Mr. Cialdini had taught them.

That was the Lake Placid International Novice Competition and their first trip to the US. It was also a big success and they won first place, surprising even themselves a little bit.

They were still a bit stunned when they stood on the podium and their national anthem began to play.

Yuuri’s arm was around Victor and Victor held Yuuri around the shoulders. Despite the ice and their light clothing, it was so warm. He could feel the heat from Yuuri’s shoulder where it touched his own.

Victor wanted to close his eyes and save this moment forever while he grinned so widely it hurt and in his mind he sang along with the anthem.

 

The press caught them afterwards and they blinked up at all the adults with microphones who wanted to hear about them.

“You two look so good together out on the ice,” one of them said, “are you dating?”

Victor put an arm around Yuuri with the happiest smile in the world on his face. “Yuuri is my best friend,” he said.

They didn’t say anything to that, focusing instead on more personal questions.

“How long have you skated together?”

“What are your plans for the future?”

“Did you pick your costumes yourselves?”

There seemed to be no end to their questions and, feeling a little overwhelmed and afraid to say the wrong thing, Victor smiled his biggest smile and answered as best as he could.

Beside him he felt Yuuri tremble a little, but he remained quiet.

 

Victor thought about it again two days later when he called Yuuri late in the evening for their usual chat. He lay on the bed on his stomach and traced a circle on his quilt absent-mindedly. “You were so quiet when those journalists asked us all those questions.”

He could hear the cold silence on Yuuri’s end.

“If they make you uncomfortable, I can talk to them for both of us,” he volunteered.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri whispered.

“For what? We’re partners, right? And we have each other’s backs,” Victor pointed out.

There was a sound like a sob on Yuuri’s end. “I just… just don’t like people crowding around me and asking all those things. It feels like they’re about to start shouting that I did something wrong…”

Victor dropped his phone. He jumped off the bed and ran down to grab his shoes, which he hastily pulled on.

“Where are you going?” someone’s voice called out.

“I’ll be right back!” Victor promised, hastily tying his shoelaces and running out of the house.

Victor couldn’t explain what pushed him out of his room and towards Yuuri, but he ran without stopping to think or even wonder why.

Yuuri was staying in a house just a little way down the street. A five minute sprint brought him to the front door and he knocked frantically.

“Hello? Oh, Victor –”

“Please, I need to go see Yuuri, it’s an emergency!” he blurted out, tossed his shoes off and ran up to Yuuri’s room.

The boy was sitting on his bed, staring sadly at the phone in his hand when Victor barged into his room.

“Victor?”

He didn’t even pause in the doorway and kept going, not stopping until his arms were wrapped tightly around Yuuri.

Yuuri hugged him back, buried his face in Victor’s shoulder and clung on without making a single sound.

 _When we’re old enough,_ Victor thought, _let’s live together._ But even this – living down the street from each other – was better than before.

Victor realized with a guilty pang that he wasn’t missing his family at all. _Maybe it’s because mom calls every day,_ he told himself.

 _But then why do I miss Yuuri even though I saw him less than an hour ago?_ he wondered.

He stayed up late that night, trying to figure out the answer, but it never came.

After that there were more competitions to worry about and the question faded from his mind.

 

Another skating season ended and another summer followed. All the schools emptied as children rushed out, happy to be free of lessons at last.

Yuuri and Victor, who’d both had an empty school year each, continued with their training.

The Katsukis and the Nikiforovs managed to arrange for a week in the beginning of July when the boys would take a rest and go back home to see their families.

And, so, when Victor awoke on July 2nd it was in his own bed and it was the sound of his TV downstairs that drifted through the quiet house and told him the big news.

“Today the president of the International Olympic Committee, Jacques Rogge, attended a session in Prague after which he formally announced that the committee decided to give the 2010 Winter Olympic Games to Vancouver. The city won by…”

Victor scrambled out of the bed and, still in his pajamas, ran out of the room and down the stairs to the living room where his father was watching TV.

He turned away from the screen. “Good morning, Vitya!” he said brightly. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

“Good morning,” Victor said and stared at the TV with his eyes open wide.

“Looks like we’ll get to host the winter Olympics after all,” his father said.

Victor watched a man in a suit stand rigidly as he spoke with a strong French accent to the press. Then Victor turned and looked at his father. “Papa?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I call Yuuri, please?”

His father glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s 10 am. I suppose it’s not that early…”

“Thanks!” Victor dashed for the phone before his father could change his mind.

His hair was a mess. There was still sleep in his eyes and he hadn’t even changed out of his pajamas, but what did any of that matter?

Their country would host the Olympics!

Many things seem strange in retrospect. Often, knowing what happens later, earlier events appear in a different light. Later – much, _much_ later – Victor looked back on that day and said it was a sign.

That day he only thought about how exciting it was.

He called Yuuri and they talked about the Olympics, imagining all of the top skaters who would be there. For some reason, neither of them thought about the fact that those Olympics were a whole seven years away and spoke as if they were about to happen.

That was why neither of them said (or even thought) something like “we’ll be old enough to compete when the time comes for those Olympics”.

 

Something changed about the general atmosphere at their skating rink. Every single person who trained in the same rinks as them worked harder, stayed longer and talked about all their relatives and friends who lived in Vancouver.

“What about you?” one of the skaters in the change room asked.

“What?” Victor finished tying his shoes and sat up to face the speaker. What was his name again? He tried to remember and found that he couldn’t.

“You two must be planning your whole lives around 2010,” the skater said and laughed. It wasn’t a very pleasant laugh.

Victor gave him a blank look. “Not really,” he admitted. “Why would we?”

He could feel Yuuri’s eyes on him and some kind of expectation. What was he waiting for?

“You’re kidding, right?” the skater went on. “Andrew has it broken down by months. He’s got this big countdown and everything…”

Victor turned to look at Yuuri, wondering if he understood what this was about.

“I’ll be 19 by then,” Yuuri said, “and you’ll be 21, old enough to participate in the Olympics.”

Understanding dawned. He stared at Yuuri in silence and watched a smile spread over Yuuri’s face. Then he realized that he was grinning back.

“I mean, we have to be good enough…” Yuuri mumbled and lowered his eyes, “…and they have to pick us for the Olympic team…”

 _I’ll do everything to get there,_ Victor promised mentally, the image of Bethel Church rising in his mind, _everything._

“Anyway, me and the other skaters were thinking,” the skater continued, “of going bowling in a bit. Do you two want to come?”

Victor felt something inside him struggle to be freed. He shook his head. “No, Yuuri and I need to go home now. We need to rest for tomorrow.” He caught Yuuri’s eye and saw the surprised look on his partner’s face.

“Well, if you’re sure…” the skater said with a shrug. “See you tomorrow!” he called out and left.

Victor got up and leaned against the line of lockers on the wall.

“Why did you turn him down?” Yuuri asked softly. “I thought you like hanging out with the other skaters.”

“I don’t feel like it,” Victor lied. “I’d rather the two of us went somewhere together.”

There was a surprised look on Yuuri’s face, but he didn’t argue.

In the end they settled for a walk.

It was still light out and they stayed out until the sun set, admiring the way the colours of the sky changed over time.

Victor walked Yuuri to the house where he was staying.

 

Celestino watched his pupils skate together, his mind full of all kinds of doubts.

Yuuri and Victor were practicing different twizzles, first spinning clockwise and then changing to spin counter-clockwise as quickly as they could. They went at it over and over again. Part of the challenge was to stay in synch with each other throughout the whole thing.

It was difficult enough even for skaters at the senior level and yet the two skaters managed to keep up an impressive speed and still kept going without falling over.

What they needed to learn next were lifts, Celestino thought, but only somewhere in the back of his mind. There was a different thought at the forefront of his mind. It had occurred to him the night before and now it wouldn’t leave him alone.

Yuuri and Victor were phenomenal skaters, but was he a good enough coach for them? And he was almost completely sure that the answer was no.

They needed someone better, someone who would really help them realize their full potential. Celestino had a couple of contacts in the figure skating world that he could try to get a hold of, but which one was the best choice?

He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the boards. He didn’t like doing this, but at the same time: what choice did he have when he could see clearly that the two skaters before him had an amazing future ahead of them? It was one thing to gamble his own future and quite another – someone else’s. To top it all off, his assistant was planning to move away in a month and that meant that their perfect training team was breaking up.

He suppressed a sigh.

An idea occurred to him then and he held his breath, as if afraid that he would scare it away. He knew who he could call and he knew exactly how to arrange things so that everyone was happy.

By the time the skaters finished with the twizzles, he’d formed a complete plan in his head. “Come here,” he called and his pupils took each other’s hands and skated towards him.

“What is it, Mr. Cialdini?” Yuuri asked.

Celestino smiled. “I was thinking about your free dance and I was thinking: what if we did something a little bit different?”

The boys’ eyes lit up at the word “different” and he knew they would agree to his idea.

“I thought we could draw on your Russian heritage, Victor, and come up with a skate to traditional Russian music?”

Victor stared back in surprise. “But I…”

Celestino held up a hand. “Yeah, I know that it will be a challenge, but an old friend of mine is coming to visit me from Russia for a week, so I thought he could help.”

“An old friend?”  both boys asked, the puzzled expressions on their faces almost identical.

Celestino grinned. “You’ll like him.”

 

As it turned out, “like” wasn’t the right word. Both boys were in awe of Celestino’s old friend as soon as Celestino introduced him.

“Yakov Feltsman,” he said with a wave of his hand, “and these are Yuuri Katsuki and Victor Nikiforov.”

The boys stared with their mouths open at an elderly man, before exclaiming the names of all the famous skaters he’d trained over the years. Never in their lives did they think they’d actually get to meet the man himself face to face.

The old coach smiled. “You seem to know me, now I want to see what you two can do,” he said.

The boys exchanged a nervous look and then gave a little nod. They skated out onto the middle of the ice and struck a pose.

Celestino recognized the beginning of their compulsory dance from the previous season. Realizing that having no music would prove a challenge, Celestino hurried to put it on, making the skaters stop and wait for the music to start before they skated anything.

“What do you think?” Celestino asked softly about halfway into the skate.

“Hmm…” Yakov contemplated the dancing pair with an intense look in his eyes. “Do you know who you’ve been training all these years?” he asked.

Celestino waited for the answer to the man’s question.

Yakov mumbled something under his breath. Finally he straightened up. “I’ll see what I can do.” He waited patiently for the boys to finish before calling them over.

“What did you think?” Victor exclaimed, giving him a hopeful look.

Even Yuuri was curious to know what the coach’s opinion was. And still they held each other’s hands.

Yakov smiled down at both of them. “Do you two want to try something?”

They nodded enthusiastically. “Of course!”

Celestino watched Yakov try a few things out with them. There was a fire in the old coach’s eyes that made Celestino smile.

The boys spent the rest of the day with him, forgetting all about Celestino.

More than that, they spent all the days of Yakov’s stay in Waterloo listening to the old coach and following his instructions. He was the one who’d found the music for them to use for their Russian dance and, together with Celestino’s assistant, worked on the choreography.

 

It was Yakov’s last evening in Canada. He had a morning flight back home the next day and he’d already said goodbye to the two skaters in the evening. It had been a very sweet goodbye: both skaters had clung on to him, as if afraid to let go.

Celestino poured them both a shot of vodka in silence.

Yakov raised the little glass. “To Victor and Yuuri!” He downed it all in one go and set the glass back on the table. Celestino did his best to follow his example.

“Well?” Celestino asked in a worried tone of voice.

“Teach them a few lifts,” Yakov suggested. “It’s about time they learned a couple.”

Celestino resisted the urge to lean across the table and shake the man. “But what do I do after that?”

“One season at a time,” Yakov said, giving him a piercing stare. “Don’t rush things just yet. They’re young and this is their decision.” He reached out and put a hand over Celestino’s. “And think of their families. This isn’t moving to a town that’s a two or three hour drive away. Russia is much, much further than that.” He winced. “Don’t I know it…”

Celestino let out a heavy sigh. “Yuuri doesn’t know a word of Russian. Victor can barely speak it.”

“That too. Well,” Yakov rose to his feet, “good night, old friend, and thank you for the challenge. It was fun.”

There was a sparkle in his eye and a smile on his face before he turned away and left for his room.

_“Do you know who you’ve been training all these years?”_

Celestino’s eye fell on the newspaper on the table. Every newspaper had something to say about Vancouver these days. He wondered absently if they were planning on keeping it up for the next seven years, or if they would drop the subject soon.

Then he imagined them – 19-year-old Yuuri and 21-year-old Victor skating out onto the ice to the sounds of loud cheers from the audience as people waved flags, posters and…

He got up and paced the room.

There was a lot of honour in being the coach of a talented athlete. A coach at the Olympics…

He shook his head, hoping to dislodge the thought and turned the light off to retire to his room, leaving two empty shot glasses on the table.

 

The Russian Medley free skate was a big success. It helped them win all the novice championships along with the novice nationals.

Yakov had left them a lot of difficult elements to work on, which they perfected with Celestino’s help, but even more exciting were the lifts.

Victor learned how to pick Yuuri up and hold him and then Yuuri, with a hint of his old competitiveness, asked to learn lifts too and they spent a whole afternoon taking turns just picking each other up.

 

There were ribbons in Victor’s hair. It had grown long and he’d braided it back and tied it with red and white ribbons. This time he’d insisted on wearing the dress – something light with puffy white sleeves and a red bodice and skirt. Yuuri got a black suit that really worked on him.

They stood one behind the other and breathed out, preparing themselves for the skate.

The music began to play, starting with the slow melody of _Moscow Nights_. Victor had heard his parents sing this one before and knew all the lyrics.

_Even whispers aren’t heard in the garden,_

_Everything has died down till morning._

_If you only knew how dear to me_

_Are these Moscow nights._

They traced circles out on the ice, their legs moving together, and Victor could almost imagine the Moscow nights mentioned in the song.

Gradually the pace picked up as they circled the ice and raised their arms together, as if egging the music on, then another melody stepped in, much faster and livelier.

He remembered watching a few Russian dances with Yuuri to try to get the spirit just right and they danced on the ice as if they were wearing the traditional sharp-toed red boots and not a pair of skates.

They kept going and Victor jumped up into Yuuri’s arms, smiling into his partner’s face as his partner held him above the ice.

There had been something magical about learning lifts.

It was Yuuri’s turn next and the skater did something like a cartwheel into Victor’s waiting arms.

The dance was fun and light and maybe that was its secret. They didn’t need to spend a long time coming up with a story or learning about how to act like someone else. They just needed to have fun and remember their steps. And never stop, not even when they both lowered themselves to do two sit spins side by side.

They ended with Victor dropping down onto the ice to pose on his knees as Yuuri froze behind him. Victor could feel his own face ready to split in two from his smile.

To their amazement everyone in the audience rose to their feet and filled the arena with the sound of loud cheering.

Victor rose to his feet and, together with Yuuri, he joined his arms in front of his chest, kicking his leg out sideways in a bow to match the steps in the dance. This done, they turned and repeated it for the other side of the audience.

The cheering got even louder.

And then it was the skaters’ turn to stare in amazement as they spotted Mr. Feltsman standing by the boards on one side and clapping his hands to show his appreciation.

A whisper swept through the audience and everyone craned their neck to take a look at the famous coach.

Victor and Yuuri bowed to him and made for the kiss and cry.

That evening they took the gold medal as well.

 

Two months later, after some discussion and a couple of arguments that nearly turned into fights, Yuuri and Victor packed their things and moved to St. Petersburg to live with one of Victor’s distant aunts and train under Yakov Feltsman.

Celestino was the only person who could convince Dina and Hiroko that the skaters wouldn’t grow so well under his training. He’d done all he could. Now it was someone else’s turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to change a few things because of the age rules, hopefully no one minds that. And, as you’ll see in the next chapter, I tweaked history a bit too.  
> I love the Russian Medley routine and I’m so happy that I could find [a video of it online](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W02hROo1cXI&). At this point Tessa and Scott are in junior championships, I know, I know.
> 
> I took the translation of Moscow Nights from a website, but I’m not sure I agree with it completely.


	9. Junior Debut

St. Petersburg was cold and grey. Even in the summer there were more rainy days than sunny ones. But mostly it was just very far away with the big time difference there to emphasize the distance between it and home.

This time both skaters would stay in an apartment together with Victor’s great-aunt Alla.

The first day in a new city was both terrifying and exciting. Mr. Feltsman met them at the airport. They’d travelled alone and were so relieved to see at least one face they recognized in the big crowd.

“How was the flight?” he asked both boys.

“Can we go see St. Petersburg?” Victor piped up, without even bothering to answer the question.

His parents had gone on for many hours about the city and how beautiful it was. It had been enough to make him very curious.

“Aren’t you tired?” Mr. Feltsman asked, looking from one boy to the other.

“We slept through the whole flight!” Victor boasted.

“We’re not tired,” Yuuri assured him. “I want to go see the city too. Please,” he added, meeting Mr. Feltsman’s eye timidly.

“Alright,” Mr. Feltsman agreed, “I’ll drive you around a little, but I won’t stop anywhere, so you’ll just have to look out of the car.”

“Thank you!”

Mr. Feltsman smiled at them.

 

St. Petersburg was the kind of city that radiated culture from every building, not just the palaces and museums, but from the old stores and, in some places, from the streets themselves.

Victor and Yuuri watched it all go by with their mouths wide open.

“Wow!” Yuuri whispered.

“Wow!” Victor exclaimed.

“Look at that!”

They went down a street lined with buildings with grand façades and Victor wondered just how many palaces there were in St. Petersburg.

Later they learned the names of all the famous places and how to find their way around, but that day all they knew was that they passed a large square with a column at its centre before crossing a big bridge and driving along the river past several more bridges. Finally they turned onto a small street that looked like it had their final destination. The city seemed less interesting here, but at the same time it was a short walk away from everything that had looked so tempting.

The car stopped and both skaters stared out at a grey apartment building with five floors of identical windows.

Mr. Feltsman got out of the car and opened the trunk.

Yuuri and Victor stared at each other in silence. Here they were – in a new place, ready to start from scratch.

Victor saw the fear in Yuuri’s face and took his hand, doing his best to smile reassuringly. “Everything will be alright,” he promised. “You’ll see.”

Yuuri nodded.

They exited through opposite doors and rushed to grab their suitcases.

Dina and Hiroko had spent several hours packing as much as possible for their sons, trying to include everything they’d ever need while still staying within the baggage limits.

Mr. Feltsman closed the trunk and locked the car before leading the way to the apartment building. There were several entrances to the building, but Mr. Feltsman headed for a specific one with the words, “Remember which door it is. This is the only entrance you can use.”

The boys said nothing.

“Victor, dial 29,” Mr. Feltsman instructed, “that’s the apartment number. I don’t have the keys, so your great-aunt will have to let us in.”

Victor stared at an old number pad for several seconds before pressing the keys as instructed.

A few dial tones followed and then someone answered, “Я вас слушаю.” _I’m listening._

“Здравствуйте!” Victor responded. _Hello!_ “Это Виктор и Юрий! Мы прилетели из Канады!” _It’s Victor and Yuuri! We flew here from Canada!_

“А-а! Заходите, конечно!” _Ohh! Come in, of course!_ A beeping sound followed those words and Mr. Feltsman opened the door to let both skaters in.

Victor entered first, dragging his suitcase behind him and then froze as he took in the dimly-lit staircase, the dirt everywhere, the mailboxes in the corner covered with dust and the words someone had scrawled on the walls in paint and marker. There wasn’t even the hint of an elevator.

He turned and saw the uncertainty on Yuuri’s face again. They had both been so determined about this move, but in the here and now Victor wondered if Yuuri was already wishing he could return to Mr. Cialdini and the comforts of the houses of those skating families in Waterloo.

Yuuri nodded at the stairs and Victor took it as his cue to keep going.

It wasn’t easy – carrying a suitcase up several flights of stairs with both hands. It was just lucky they were both strong for their age.

Mr. Feltsman followed behind them, explaining quietly which door they needed.

Victor did his best to pay attention to his surroundings while he carried his case. He and Yuuri had to stop several times to give their hands a minute or so of rest and Victor used the chance to study the other doors they passed.

Finally they reached a door with a little 29 above it and he set his suitcase down with a sigh.

The door was already a little bit open.

Victor knocked carefully while Yuuri and Mr. Feltsman caught up.

The door swung open all the way and an old lady ran out. She put her arms around Victor and held him in a tight embrace for several seconds, kissing the top of his head a couple of times.

“Долетели наконец-то!” _You flew here finally_! She pulled back and gave him a critical look from head to toe. “Дай поглядеть на себя.” _Let me take a look at you._

Victor used this chance to look at his aunt. She was only two heads taller than him. Her hair was a light brown, as if the colour was starting to fade out. Her dress also had a washed-out look, but there was no mistaking the sincerity of the joy on her face or the energy in her movements.

“Здравствуйте, тётя,” Victor said, doing his best to look like a responsible adult and not at all like a little child that needed lots of looking after. _Hello, aunt._

“Здравствуй, здравствуй!” she said and shook her head. _Hello, hello!_ “Кожа да кости! Чем вас родители кормили?” _Skin and bones! What did your parents feed you?_ Her eyes fell on Yuuri. “И ты тоже!” _And you too!_

“Здравствуйте,” Yuuri said just like Victor had taught him. He bent forward in a kind of bow and Victor resisted the urge to comment.

Yuuri’s parents had bought him a Russian-English phrasebook before he left and Yuuri had struggled through the first few pages while they’d waited at the airport for their flight. He’d wanted to study all through the flight as well, but Victor had talked him out of it. As it turned out, Victor could’ve said nothing: Yuuri had fallen asleep from exhaustion alone.

Now Victor wondered how Yuuri would cope with everything.

“Заходите,” the aunt invited them in and Victor motioned Yuuri to follow him. _Come in_. The aunt then tried to extend the invitation to Mr. Feltsman, seeing the way he lingered behind in the stairwell.

Yuuri and Victor both turned to watch.

Mr. Feltsman shook his head. “Мне пора домой,” he said. _I need to go home._ He didn’t add anything else to that only giving the two boys a smile each. “I’ll see you both tomorrow,” he promised before he left.

They both wished him goodbye and then watched the aunt close the door behind him.

Victor felt Yuuri’s hand close around his. Their eyes met.

Alone. Alone in a foreign city where everyone spoke a different language. Alone with a total stranger.

Yuuri’s hold tightened and Victor smiled. They weren’t alone. They still had each other. That was all they needed.

A weak smile appeared on Yuuri’s face and he finally let Victor go. He bent down to untie his shoelaces and Victor stared at the top of his head.

“У меня есть для вас тапочки,” the aunt declared and shuffled around to take two pairs of identical slippers out of her closet. _I have slippers for you._

Victor and Yuuri put them on and followed her into the living room.

“Я вам выделила по комнате,” the aunt told them. “Так что располагайтесь как дома. Вы, наверное, проголадались. Еда уже на столе.”

Victor waited for her to finish talking before translating for Yuuri. “She says we get a room each,” he told his partner. “She wants us to feel as if we’re at home and,” he tried to remember what else, “oh yes! And food is on the table.”

Yuuri glanced at the table in the living room and then at the aunt. “Спасибо.” _Thank you._

There was a look of shock on the aunt’s face. “Он ничего не понимает, что-ли?” _He doesn’t understand anything?_

Victor explained as best as he could that Yuuri couldn’t speak Russian, but that he was planning to learn the language soon. The aunt winced and corrected his grammar several times.

“Судя по всему, ты сам толком не говоришь по-русски.” _Looks like you can barely speak Russian yourself._ She shook her head. “Чему тебя родители учили?” _What did your parents teach you?_

Victor remained silent.

“Так – быстро мыть руки и за стол! Всё остальное – потом,” the aunt ordered. _Go wash your hands quickly and sit down at the table. You can do the rest later._

They washed their hands side by side. Victor threw anxious looks at Yuuri, wondering if he should apologize for his aunt’s behaviour.

“I’m sorry you have to translate all the time,” Yuuri said, his eyes fixed on his hands.

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Victor tried to assure him.

They dried their hands and returned to the living room where they sat down at a table covered with all kinds of food. The boys stared at all of it, trying to take it in.

Victor swallowed nervously. Most of the food was foreign even to him. He glanced at Yuuri, wondering how he was taking all this.

“Я пыталась узнать у твоей мамы, что вы едите, но она меня уверяла, что вы едите всё,” the aunt explained. _I tried to find out from your mother what you eat, but she assured me that you eat everything._ “Но вы мне сами скажите, что вам нравится и я вам буду это готовить.” _But you can tell me yourselves what you like and I’ll cook it for you._

Victor thanked her and explained what she’d said to Yuuri.

Yuuri thanked her too and shyly reached out for the closest plate of food to put some on his plate.

The skaters tried everything, convinced that that was what the aunt expected of them. Seeing all the salads and meat dishes she’d made for them, they couldn’t help feeling guilty that she’d worked so hard just for the two of them.

After dinner she offered them tea with cake and asked if they would like to have ice cream instead. They picked tea and promised to have ice cream later.

“Я накупила много мороженного, так что ешьте,” the aunt said, pouring them a cup of tea each and then diluting it a little with cold water. _I bought lots of ice cream, so eat it._

She wouldn’t let them stay up after that and insisted they both showered and went to sleep right away.

That night Victor lay in his bed, on a lumpy mattress and listened to the cars go down the street outside.

He’d gotten so used to living in a separate house in a quiet neighbourhood, that the sounds from the street were keeping him awake. He’d have to adjust to life in a big city now. Waterloo was bigger than Ilderton, but nothing quite as big as St. Petersburg.

He worried again about the language barrier and then about getting around the city and…

His eyelids dropped and he drifted off, forgetting about everything else for the moment.

 

In the morning he woke up to find his aunt cooking something in the kitchen.

“Доброе утро!” she greeted him. _Good morning!_ “Блинчики будешь?” _Will you have pancakes?_

He stood in the doorway, still in his pajamas and stared sleepily at her. “Где Юрий?” _Where’s Yuuri?_

She gave him a big radiant smile. “Спит пока. Иди умойся и садись кушать. Он к тебе скоро присоединится.” _He’s still sleeping. Go wash up and sit down to eat. He’ll join you soon._

Victor frowned and headed for the couch. “Я его подожду,” he promised. _I’ll wait for him._

She gave him an amused smile and didn’t argue.

Victor sat and felt his stomach protest at his decision. But he remained where he was. He would wait for Yuuri to get up. He just had to.

After a while he was rewarded with some noise and finally Yuuri stumbled out of his room.

The breakfast that followed was the most delicious breakfast Victor had ever had. His aunt was good at making pancakes and he enjoyed every single one he got. Next to him Yuuri seemed to be as thrilled as he was. They alternated between covering the pancakes with jam, or sour cream and sugar, and couldn’t pick which was their favourite.

“Яков Давидович обещал за вами приехать,” his aunt told them as Victor licked his fingers and wondered if he could ask for another pancake. _Yakov Davidovich promised to come pick you up._

Victor felt himself relax. They would be looked after and not left to their own devices.

As promised, Mr. Feltsman came as soon as they finished breakfast. The boys packed their skates as quickly as they could and rushed out, but not before their aunt caught each of them and gave them a farewell kiss on both cheeks. Then she handed Victor a key to the apartment with a warning to look after it and the boys were off.

Their new training rink was different. Their rink mates were all people they’d barely glimpsed in one competition, but one thing didn’t change: they still had each other.

Victor took Yuuri’s hand as they made their first lap around the rink.

More skaters came out onto the ice. Victor spotted a familiar face and nearly tumbled over.

Georgi and Anya were skating towards them.

No doubt sensing Victor’s tension, Yuuri stopped and waited to see what Victor would do next.

They were their rivals. More than that, they already had two years’ experience in juniors while Victor and Yuuri were just starting out.

Victor put on his biggest smile as they approached. “Hello!” he said in English. “We’re your new rink mates!”

Georgi shook their hands all while keeping one arm around Anya. Victor noticed that the skater wasn’t just holding on to his partner, it felt as if he was shielding her from everyone.

Pretending he hadn’t noticed anything, Victor went on about their flight the day before and talked about staying at his aunt’s house.

Yuuri remained silent until Anya asked him a question. She spoke in English as well, Victor noticed, and was very grateful to her for it.

But Georgi stepped into their attempt at a conversation, asking Anya what she thought and Victor couldn’t shake the suspicion that he didn’t like her speaking to other skaters.

The explanation for Georgi’s odd behaviour came that evening after practice.

Yuuri and Victor were changing into their running shoes when one of the other skaters came in.

“Word of advice,” he said, leaning against the lockers and addressing them both in English, “don’t talk to Anya alone.”

“Why not?” Yuuri asked.

They’d gotten introduced to everyone before their training started, but Victor couldn’t remember this skater’s name. He was a few years older and had short blond hair, which he would keep tossing aside with a wave of his head. He had an arrogant air, as if he owned the whole rink, and Victor wondered if the skater knew how annoying it was.

“Because…” the skater looked around and even the two skaters threw cautious looks around themselves. But there was no one else in the change room with them.

“Are you two dating anyone?” he asked.

For some reason Victor had a clear image of Yuuri’s smiling face in front of him as he lifted his partner up during a skate. He turned to look at Yuuri.

The skater was shaking his head. Victor shook his head too.

“Shame,” the other skater said. “Well, everyone knows that Georgi wants to ask Anya out. For some reason he hasn’t got the guts, so he gets really jealous if he sees her with someone else.”

Victor and Yuuri met the words with silence. What was there to say to something like that?

“Thank you for telling us,” Yuuri finally said.

“Well,” the skater shrugged, “better safe than sorry. I hate watching people fight over stupid things. Although, I don’t think you’ll need my advice. There are lots of rumours about you two dating.”

“We’re not dating,” Yuuri told him. “We’re best friends. Right, Victor?”

Victor nodded in response. They were the best of friends. More than that, they were family.

The skater left with a shrug.

Yuuri and Victor went to find Mr. Feltsman. This time Yuuri asked for directions back home. He didn’t want Mr. Feltsman to drive them, he said, and preferred to take public transit instead.

To their surprise, their new home was only a few metro stops away from their rink.

“Do you want me to take you?” Mr. Feltsman offered.

“No, we’ll be fine,” Yuuri insisted.

Victor nodded.

The St. Petersburg metro is a museum. Some stations are less interesting than others, but most of them have something to draw a visitor’s eye.

Yuuri and Victor were training at the Yubileyny Sports Palace, near Sportivnaya Station, which was decorated with all kinds of frescoes of athletes in a style reminiscent of old frescoes in Greece.

“We should go see all the stations one day,” Victor suggested in a whisper and Yuuri agreed.

When they came home they found the aunt cooking something at the stove again.

“Can we help?” Yuuri offered.

The aunt gave him a puzzled look and Victor translated the question.

“Мои дорогие! Отдохните! Вы и так устали!” she tried to reassure them. _My dears! Rest! You’re already tired!_

But Yuuri insisted and so did Victor. They refused to back down until she finally relented and asked them to go buy a few groceries.

They set out together, glowing with pride over getting a chance to buy a few eggs and some milk.

But Victor’s joy evaporated in the store. He could barely read what it said on each package and Yuuri had no hopes of understanding anything at all.

“We need to learn Russian fast,” Yuuri whispered as they stood next to the eggs. “Until then I can’t even leave the house without you.”

Victor’s face was full of misery. “I’m not much use either!”

But that evening when they got back he managed to convince himself that it was just a little thing. They could learn the language. It wasn’t impossible.

The other big question was school, of course. Yuuri and Victor had to sort out some kind of schooling. Online classes were out of the question – their aunt had no computer and neither of them could afford to buy one.

Mr. Feltsman found them a school to attend in the evenings. The classes were all in Russian, but neither of them complained about that. They did arrange for Yuuri and Victor to sit in the same classes, however.

 

Two days later their aunt presented them with something new. “I got you a phone,” she said, handing them a little thing that opened up in a way that made Victor think of a book. “If your call is less than a minute, it doesn’t cost anything, so call me as often as you can. At least tell me that you got there okay and call before you go home.”

Victor translated for Yuuri and they both thanked her.

“You get to rest tomorrow, Yakov Davidovich said, so why don’t you go and explore the city a little?” she suggested. “Take the phone, so I always know where you are.”

They accepted this too.

Victor was surprised. Back home his parents always took him places. The skating family that had taken him in for two years didn’t even offer the chance to go anywhere, as if it hadn’t even occurred to them, but here was his great-aunt letting them do whatever they liked without even mentioning how old they were.

They didn’t argue against this. Instead, they asked her about the best places to visit, prepared something nice to wear for the next day and Victor got his dad’s old camera ready. There was still a roll of film inside for him to use. Enough for a few photos to send home.

 

_“Dear mom and dad,_

_Today Yuuri and I went to…_

Victor paused, wondering how to spell the name of that big palace they’d visited together. It was huge and beautiful and had impressed them both from the outside as well as the inside. They’d taken a few photos outside that he wanted to send back home.

 

_…the Ermitage. There are lots of paintings inside! We didn’t get to see them all because we got tired and there were so many rooms. There was this golden bird with a clock that was so cool!_

 

He did his best, but he knew he wasn’t good with words and how could any words do his feelings justice, anyway? The letter would take a few weeks to get home, but that was the best he could hope for.

He wrote about The Hermitage and then the big stone men they’d discovered just outside the palace. They held up the roof of an entrance, looking really strained, and the boys got photos with them too. Then he wrote about all the boats and canals throughout the city. Finally, feeling like it was expected of him, he wrote a little about their training.

 _Yuuri is really good at lifts,_ he added after a detailed breakdown of his schedule, _so we decided to leave most of them to him in the future._

He sat back and stared down at the page before him. He’d gotten the paper from his aunt who seemed to be ready to do anything for him and Yuuri.

However, at that moment his thoughts weren’t of his aunt.

 

_Mr. Feltsman finished explaining the lift and gave both skaters a piercing look. “Do you think you can do it?”_

_“Please,” Yuuri spoke up just as Victor was getting ready to nod, “can I pick Victor up?”_

_“Alright,” the coach agreed. “If you want to – go ahead.”_

_They skated away and then went around to prepare for the lift._

_“Are you ready?” Yuuri asked Victor softly._

_Victor gave a little nod and jumped up for Yuuri to carry him onwards and raise him up higher. Out of the two of them, Victor was still a bit taller, but Yuuri was stronger. His hold was firm. Then he set Victor down and they kept moving._

_“I want to try more challenging ones,” Yuuri said, his eyes glowing with excitement._

_Victor didn’t argue – he agreed completely with this._

_They spent the rest of that day off the ice, trying to figure out a few lifts. They needed a feel for where they had to go in order to be able to actually go there when out on the ice._

_Victor couldn’t help thinking that it was really fun to spend several hours getting picked up by Yuuri. Fun for him, at least._

_“You must be tired,” he said as soon as the thought occurred to him. He cursed himself for not thinking about Yuuri earlier. How could he have been so selfish?_

_“A little,” Yuuri admitted. “But it’s not that bad.”_

There was a knock on the door, drawing him out of his reverie. “Come in!” he called.

Yuuri peered in shyly. “Aunt Alla is asking us to go buy some bread. Are you okay with going now?”

Victor glanced briefly at the half-written letter and nodded. “Let’s go.”

 

Aunt Alla watched her nephew and his skating partner cross the courtyard outside, walking hand in hand. She stood in the window and wondered if they would look up and wave at her, but they seemed to be lost in a world of their own.

They always seemed to be lost in a world of their own.

To top it all off, there was all that training that took up most of the day and then, as if that wasn’t enough, they came home and sat together, pouring over their homework and studied frantically as if they hadn’t done anything all day. She wondered how they coped with it all.

Yuuri and Victor were both learning Russian. The idea of language classes triggered something and Yuuri decided to study Japanese as well.

Alla waited for the children to disappear from view and returned to the living room where a stack of papers lay on the table, covered in Yuuri’s neat writing. There was a mix of three languages on the top page and she wondered how he kept them all apart in his head.

“Poor boy,” she said with a sigh and returned to the kitchen to cook something good for them.

When they’d asked if she could look after them, she’d said “yes, of course,” and braced herself for dealing with two rebellious teenagers. She hadn’t expected to get two of the best children in the world.

Dina called to check up on them every day, despite the huge time difference, and Alla always told her the same thing, “They’re golden, Dinochka! Absolutely wonderful! I’ve never seen such good kids in my whole life!”

For some reason, Dina had a hard time accepting that and continued to ask if Victor had done anything terrible. Maybe it was politeness on her part.

Alla, who’d had children of her own many years ago, who’d buried her husband and watched her children leave the country, enjoyed the company of the two teenagers even when they chattered amongst themselves in English.

She washed several vegetables and cut them up, humming a song aloud. Finally, on a whim, she turned the radio on and hummed along with it.

She would make sure that the children wouldn’t want for anything. She’d already found out when their birthdays were and promised herself to hold a big celebration for each one.

 

All of Mr. Feltsman’s students at some point or other in their career got a routine choreographed by the coach’s wife herself.

Lilia Baranovskaya had been a ballerina once, but had retired some time in her early forties and joined her husband in training young athletes. She had a stern look on her face, as if she was always seeing something that displeased her and, indeed, she was very difficult to please. Most of her pupils were terrified of her. Her family was terrified of her.

Yuuri and she got on amazingly well.

It shocked everyone. They all trembled in fear before her and had a few nasty nicknames for the retired ballerina, but Yuuri had approached her bravely and listened to all her instructions.

She put together their free dance: a tango to Adiós Nonino, which she had them practice on the floor first. They’d picked the music out themselves and she hadn’t seemed convinced that it was a good choice. They were both determined to prove her wrong.

“No, that’s no good!” she interrupted with a single clap of her hands.

Yuuri and Victor released each other and joined her to listen to what she would say.

“You’re not convincing,” she told them flatly. “You can’t dance a tango as if it’s this nice dance. You have to actually feel something for each other.”

“But…” Victor tried to stammer out.

“Use your imagination!” she cut in. “Now start again!”

They took their positions in front of each other and started from the beginning. Victor watched Yuuri’s face and tried to imagine what being in love felt like. It was an odd idea and one he’d gotten so used to dismissing…

“That’s no good!” Lilia interrupted again. “Come here!”

They went over to her obediently.

She circled them. She was taller than both of them and as intimidating as always. It was hard not to tremble under her stare. Victor did his best to keep staring at his feet and not clench his hands while he did it.

“Look at each other!” she snapped. They raised their heads and their eyes met. “The person in front of you,” she went on and something about her voice felt as if she was whispering right into his ear, “is the most handsome person in the world. You’ve been in love with each other for years and now you finally meet.”

Victor felt his heart beat faster.

There was a faint blush on Yuuri’s cheeks.

“Every touch is like burning,” she continued. She spoke in her stern voice, but Victor wasn’t concentrating on her tone. He was too busy focusing on the meaning of her words.

On a whim he stepped forward and Yuuri stepped in front of him. He lowered his head and Victor ran a trembling hand down his neck.

The music was still playing, stuck in a maddening loop, and Victor took both of Yuuri’s hands with each of his own.

He spun Yuuri around to face him. There was an odd look in the skater’s eye.

Yuuri stepped forward slowly and Victor stepped back, not because he was trying to get away, but so he could follow his partner’s movements.

They went around together, forgetting for a moment about the choreography and thinking more about the meaning behind Lilia’s words.

At some point she stopped narrating, but neither of them seemed to notice as they kept going.

There was something fascinating about the line of Yuuri’s shoulders. His eyes swept over Yuuri’s face, his half-closed eyes, and his slightly parted lips. Victor felt his insides turn over. If he could just…

“Better,” Lilia’s voice cut in. “Now I want you to go through the whole dance.”

Victor blinked and stared at Yuuri. There was his usual polite smile on his face. What was he thinking about right now?

They started from the beginning.

It felt so strange to pretend to be in love with each other under Lilia’s stern stare. But the more difficult task was adjusting to different coaching styles.

Victor had seen Lilia’s yelling lead to tears from other skaters and worried he, too, would break down one day. But Yuuri seemed to be doing fine.

The day’s training ended and they went to change their shoes and get their things.

“It really is very different here,” Victor said softly.

Yuuri sat up and met his eye. “There’s so much energy in the air!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah…” Then, with a mischievous smile he added, “Can you believe Lilia just lectured us about love?”

Yuuri giggled.

The sound of footsteps in the hall made them tense, as if they both expected Lilia to barge in and tell them off for laughing at her.

Then they heard a familiar voice, “Really, Anya, I don’t understand why you’re so upset – lots of skating pairs kiss on the ice!”

“And what if I don’t want to? I don’t care what everyone else does! I’m here to skate, not to make out!” Anya shouted back.

“I won’t kiss you, then, I promise!” Georgi said.

She scoffed and stormed off down the hall. He followed after her and then it grew quiet.

Victor then realized he was clutching Yuuri’s hand tightly and released it, snatching his hand away. “Sorry!” he exclaimed, turning away to hide his embarrassment.

A heavy silence hung in the air.

“A lot of pairs kiss while skating,” Yuuri pointed out softly.

“Yeah,” Victor said, feeling his heart start pounding in his chest. For some reason he couldn’t make himself turn to look at Yuuri. This was all so embarrassing!

“I suppose we’ll have to at some point too,” Yuuri said.

Victor tried to laugh, “Imagine that!” he exclaimed.

Yuuri’s hand caught his. It was so warm.

Victor turned and met Yuuri’s eye. “Do you think we should try it?” he suddenly asked.

He watched the blood rise to Yuuri’s face as the boy nodded. “Yes.”

The word was whispered so quietly that he’d barely heard it, but the “yes” managed to pierce him all the way through.

Yes! And he was sure that a surge of electricity passed straight through him.

He was suddenly really conscious of how close Yuuri was. It never bothered him before, but for some reason it was suddenly very important.

What if he messed up? What if he hit Yuuri with his nose?

But it was already too late: Yuuri had closed his eyes and leaned forward.

Licking his lips nervously and throwing a quick look around them, Victor closed his own eyes and leaned towards Yuuri.

His lips pressed against Yuuri’s for several seconds and then they pulled apart.

Yuuri caught Victor’s hands with both of his own. “Well?” he asked.

“It’s not as scary as I thought,” Victor said with a shrug and then froze as he realized he’d said the words aloud.

Yuuri giggled. “Scary? Did you think I would bite your face off?”

“Stop it!” Victor giggled. “Stop!” He nudged Yuuri with his elbows, but he couldn’t stop laughing now.

They giggled the whole way home, making silly jokes that weren’t funny to anyone other than the two of them.

 

That night Victor lay on the bed with his hand over his mouth. He thought of his old classmates in Ilderton. For some reason, they’d all treated a person’s first kiss like something really important. And here he was sharing his first kiss with Yuuri!

He stared up at the ceiling where the light from the street left long orange stripes that stretched all the way to the opposite wall.

_Lots of skaters kiss on the ice. We’ll have to do it in front of everyone eventually._

He put both hands over his mouth. He would never forget that odd feeling of butterflies in his stomach. But that was probably normal for a first kiss, he told himself, even if it didn’t feel all that special after all.

He turned over with a sigh, buried his head under the blanket and tried to sleep.

Outside the city lived on.

He remembered all those times he’d watched senior skaters perform a passionate routine and kiss each other. It was definitely more than a brief touch of each other’s lips.

His last thought before he drifted off was, _I wonder if we can learn to kiss like all those skaters._

The figure skating world was getting a shakeup that year: after all the scandals and arguments about the points system, they were finally abandoning their 6.0 scale for something everyone hoped would be much fairer. It was made to encourage faster, more well-rounded skating and not reward people based on reputations, and had been pushed forward quickly after all the embarrassment of the voting scandal.

Yuuri and Victor, meanwhile, had to deal less with the change due to scoring and more with the jump to junior level. They were only one step away from seniors and they could feel the difference.

With the new point system in mind, Mr. Feltsman was devoting more time to training Yuuri and Victor to be faster and more powerful, convinced that would make them better skaters.

They didn’t medal in the Junior Grand Prix Final that season, but trained like mad for the nationals with barely a break for Yuuri and Victor’s birthdays.

 

Victor woke up from the smell of something delicious. His face spread in a smile before he even opened his eyes. He sat up sharply and tiptoed into the kitchen.

Yuuri was at the stove, fully dressed and making something with Aunt Alla.

She laughed at something he said and ruffled his hair.

Yuuri giggled and, no doubt, feeling Victor’s eyes on him, turned. “Good morning!” he called out in Russian.

“Good morning!” Victor responded.

“Happy birthday!” this, too, had been exclaimed in Russian.

“Thank you.” Victor walked over to the stove. “What are you making?”

“Pancakes!” Yuuri told him. Then he reached out and hugged Victor close.

Yuuri’s hugs were the best hugs Victor had ever gotten. They held each other as close as they could and felt the beating of each other’s hearts. It always comforted Victor. Now it was making him happier than ever.

“Happy sweet sixteen!” his aunt called out while Yuuri still held on.

He tried to pull away, but now it was Victor’s turn to hold Yuuri in place. After several minutes they managed to let each other go at last.

There was a loud buzz from the doorbell and Victor gave them both a puzzled look. He walked over to the door and opened it.

“Surprise!” several voices called out at once and Victor’s family poured into the apartment.

He stared in amazement as they all surrounded him. His mother held a cake in her hands. His father was holding a big gift wrapped in paper and his two brothers were just grinning at him.

“Did we catch you off guard?” Paul said, giving him a playful nudge.

But Victor threw his arms around his mother and held her close. He wasn’t crying, but he could feel himself shaking a little.

“Oh, Viten’ka,” his mother sighed and rubbed his back. “Where’s Yuuri?”

“I’m right here,” the boy called out. Victor didn’t turn to look, but he heard him come forward hesitantly. “Do you want me to…?” he began and trailed off.

“Come here, Yuuri.” His mother pulled Yuuri into their collective hug. “Your parents promised to be here tomorrow. They couldn’t fly in today, but you still have all of us, right?”

Victor pulled away and watched Yuuri nod. “If I’m not getting in the way…” he said and glanced at Victor. “I’m not lonely, because I had Victor with me all this time.” He put his arms around Victor.

“And you haven’t heard the best part yet!” Victor’s father piped up. “We all get to fly back together for the nationals!”

“Hooray!” Victor and Yuuri exclaimed.

What followed was, without a doubt, the best birthday ever. Afterwards, Victor often thought back to that day.

After a big breakfast with everyone, the skaters took Victor’s family around St. Petersburg to show them all the best places. Naturally, the tour ended at their rink where they offered to skate for Victor’s family and, because they’d even brought Aunt Alla along this time, everyone got comfortable in the stands while Victor and Yuuri got out their costumes for their original dance.

This time they were both in suits with white ties, which got an “aww” from the aunt and some chuckles from everyone else. The froze a few steps apart, facing away from each other.

The music began to play and the audience faded away into background detail.

Yuuri spun towards Victor just as he turned to face his partner. They gave a little hop to the music and joined hands as the dance began in earnest.

_“Call me irresponsible…”_

“This is certainly the pair to watch,” one of the TV commentators told the world. “Just 14 and 16 years old and look at that footwork!”

Victor released Yuuri. They both spun around and caught each other’s hands again.

_“Call me unreliable_

_Throw in undependable, too…”_

It was a deceptively slow tune that drew you in and turned your head like champagne.

The slow foxtrot was hard enough with all its steps, with having to stay in synch with each other, and then halfway through the song changed and the skaters slipped into the quickstep as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

_“Have you seen the well-to-do, up and down Park Avenue…”_

Afterwards the papers would write about them, calling the skate classy and beautiful.

In the here and now the audience watched in amazement and even the commentators were silent. What more could they possibly add to a skate like that?

 

Dina and Hiroko watched their sons skate. They still looked so small in comparison to everyone else. The only difference came when they went out to skate the tango for their free skate and then the dark red shirts and black pants as well as the red lipstick created a temporary illusion of two adults on the ice.

The free skate with its subtleties was the most convincing of the three skates, earning them that much-coveted gold medal.

When they stood on the podium afterwards, they grinned from ear to ear, looking once again like children playing at being adults. They forgot about their appearance so much that when they exchanged kisses on each other’s cheeks they left two imprints that they didn’t notice until much later.

And then it was time for the World Championship.

 

Victor and Yuuri were a little calmer about the big competition now. They’d seen several big arenas and huge crowds. This wasn’t their first time wearing their country’s flag on their jackets and skates, or hearing their country’s name after their two names. But it was their first time competing as the champions of their own country and that made a huge difference.

The interviews poured in. As always, the journalists wanted to know everything. Where were they training? Was it hard living away from home? What about the language?

“I’m very lucky,” Yuuri said, “because I’m not alone. I have Victor with me. He helps me a lot through it all.” His hold on Victor’s hand tightened and they exchanged a happy smile.

“And I have Yuuri,” Victor added and braced himself for the question that would inevitably follow.

“Are you two dating?” someone asked. “Because you look very good together.”

“Thank you,” Yuuri said, “but we’re not a couple.”

“We’re not,” Victor agreed.

The questions ended there and the skaters made for the change room.

As soon as the door opened their eyes fell on Georgi and Anya who were also getting ready for the competition.

“Hello, Victor, Yuuri,” Georgi said. He held out his hand to take each of theirs in turn. “Good luck!”

“You too,” they said, looking at him and throwing a very brief look at Anya that was as emotionless as possible.

The junior championships were very important, of course, but part of the excitement was getting the chance to watch the seniors up close and even to bump into them in the elevator in the hotel.

Even the senior practice sessions had left an impression on the two skaters who’d stood at the boards and felt the wind that followed each of the skaters.

But now it was their turn to compete.

 

For the compulsory dance they’d picked the blues tune they wanted to dance to themselves.

Victor held Yuuri as he slid down against him and then straightened up to start their routine. There was the closeness again, as if they were about to exchange a kiss.

They went through stroke after stroke on the ice, their legs moving together. Sometimes Yuuri would whisper something into his ear when they skated this routine, but he remained quiet this time.

They were very careful with every step, but there was no helping it: when Georgi and Anya went out onto the ice they beat them, pushing the two skaters down to second place.

When the foxtrot-quickstep routine didn’t help them regain first place, they put all their faith into the tango. But that was another two days away, which gave them one full day to prepare.

But the next day was the first of the senior ice dancing competitions and, after a morning’s practice, Yuuri and Victor went to watch the top pairs in the world go out onto the ice.

Victor and Yuuri sat in the stands and watched as the world’s leading pair exchanged a passionate kiss on the ice while playing a couple ready to die for each other. Their eyes were closed as they swept by Yuuri and Victor.

“That’s how it needs to be done,” Yuuri whispered. “That’s so much more convincing.”

Victor turned his face to meet Yuuri’s eye and wondered if they’d dare to do something as passionate as that in front of everyone.

 _Next skate,_ he told himself. _Next time._

Or maybe the time after that…

Unfortunately their tango free skate didn’t help them beat everyone else. They made a couple of mistakes, nearly fell and tumbled all the way down to fifth place.

They clung to each other as they looked at the scoring table.

A tear rolled down Yuuri’s cheek. “Sorry,” he said, wiping it away.

Victor pulled him close. “No,” he said, “if you want to cry – go ahead.”

Somewhere out there in the crowd Mr. Feltsman was caught giving an interview about his top pupils: Georgi and Anya. Victor couldn’t help thinking that Mr. Cialdini would’ve stuck with them, if he’d still been their coach.

Yuuri buried his face in Victor’s chest. “Can we go somewhere else?” he whispered.

“Let’s go back to our hotel room,” Victor offered.

“Okay.”

 

Dina and Hiroko sat in the audience and watched the medal ceremony. They knew how much their sons hated to lose and debated leaving early to go join them, but politeness kept them stuck in their spots.

“We need to keep going to every competition,” Dina whispered into Hiroko’s ear. “At least one of us has to be there.”

Hiroko nodded and stared down at the podium. “They’re all 17 or 18,” she said. “Most of them will be in seniors next season, or the season after that, but still our boys were almost first among them.”

“I know,” Dina said quietly. “Let’s go find them. I can’t take this wait any longer.”

Instinct led the mothers back to the hotel where the boys shared a room, but to their big surprise the skaters didn’t need their words of support and buried all their feelings deep inside to give them their biggest smiles.

Yes, they were upset that they’d lost, but that was part of competing.

“They’re growing up,” Hiroko told Dina when they left the boys behind an hour or so later.

Dina gave a big sigh. “Victor is growing up away from me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a kind of shorthand I call her “aunt” sometimes, but she’s really Victor’s great-aunt, sorry if that confuses anyone.
> 
> Also, ao3 seems to be eating comments again. If you don’t get a response from me, please check if ao3 ate your comment.
> 
> For anyone who wants to see the routines described in this chapter:  
> [Compulsory Dance (Blues)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eB5p4LTfRCw)  
> [Original Dance (Slow Foxtrot/Quickstep)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YvDMZDWEG-0)  
> [Free Dance (Adiós Nonino)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JwxEDgVDEAg)
> 
> And, lastly, I think this fic is going to be a really slow burn. I hope no one minds that...


	10. Key Words

They were supposed to take the skating world by storm. They were supposed to win everything and especially Worlds in their junior debut. They’d come _so close_! Yuuri and Victor weren’t just upset or frustrated, they both felt they’d let themselves down.

The first week after Worlds was hard. There was so much pent up frustration that practice was almost becoming impossible.

Yuuri took Victor’s hands and skated with him, going backwards. “Maybe we should take a few days off,” he suggested, looking into Victor’s eyes to see what his reaction would be.

Victor bit his lips in frustration, doing his best to keep his anger in check. It wasn’t right to take it out on Yuuri. “I don’t think it will help,” he admitted when he was sure he wouldn’t say something he would later regret.

“Yuuri! Victor!” Mr. Feltsman called and the skaters went to see what the old coach wanted. He waited for them to stop at the boards in front of him before speaking in a calm and quiet voice. “Worlds has passed and gone. There is no point in wasting time and effort dwelling on what could’ve been.” He watched them nod and went on, “I want you to focus on the next season. You’re going to stay in juniors internationally, but I think you’re ready to compete in seniors at your country’s level.”

Victor and Yuuri exchanged an excited look.

“But before we start talking about the music to use,” the coach continued, “I want to go over your performance in Worlds. Just because you need to move on doesn’t mean that you can’t learn from your mistakes.”

Mr. Feltsman didn’t need a recording. He had an excellent memory for detail and he waved his hand around to show where each mistake had happened, as if they’d just completed their skate. To their surprise, he had them go over their free skate once more.

That was how Victor found himself curled up around Yuuri’s neck once more as they moved across the ice. There was a serene smile on Yuuri’s face and Victor stared up into his partner’s eyes, feeling as if they’d left all the frustrations somewhere behind them.

That night he had his first relaxed sleep in a long while.

 

The next morning they were talking about music over breakfast, mixing Russian and English words without even thinking.

“No, no,” Yuuri insisted, “I think we need a lyrical piece for the free skate.”

Victor flipped a pancake over and turned to look at his partner. “But a light piece is so much more fun!”

His aunt stumbled into the kitchen, mumbling about sleeping in and gave them both a surprised look. “What’s this?” she asked, nodding at the stove.

“I thought I’d make breakfast this time,” Victor said. “You’re always making it, so now it’s my turn!”

“This is what happens when you sleep in!” the aunt mumbled, rushing to the stove. “I should’ve woken up earlier, I’m sorry! I must be getting old –”

Victor threw his arms around her. Yuuri jumped in just in time to hug her from the other side.

“We thought we’d surprise you, Aunt Alla,” Victor said. “But my pancakes aren’t as good as yours!”

“Oh you!” she exclaimed. “What will I do with you?”

They all laughed and then she rushed to the stove before the pancake could be ruined. “Sit back down,” she told them. “I’ll take it from here.”

They tried to protest, but she wouldn’t let them.

Victor put an arm around Yuuri. “What do you think, Auntie? Should we skate to something happy or sad?”

“What?” she turned around and then beamed at the two skaters. “I don’t know, really. I’m sure whatever you choose will be done well!”

This earned her a kiss on each cheek from both skaters.

But the argument about the music went on all through breakfast and even as they packed their stuff and went down to the metro.

Only when they got out at Sportivnaya Station did Yuuri cut the argument off with, “I think Aunt Alla is really lonely.”

Victor opened his mouth to say something and hesitated. It was true. They could both see how lonely she must’ve been before they moved in and how lonely she continued to be whenever they were away. But what could they do? Their training went from 6 in the morning to 6 in the evening and then there were classes that they had to attend.

“I think us being here with her really helps,” Victor said, putting an arm around Yuuri without even thinking about it.

Yuuri took Victor’s free hand. “Sometimes I remember the choice I made to skate with someone else and I think how lucky I am to have met you,” he stared at Victor’s hand as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world. “I don’t think I’d be able to cope if I had to do this alone.”

“Yuuri…” Victor whispered.

“I want to skate with you for as long as I still can,” he said, raising his eyes and meeting Victor’s gaze.

“Until we’re both really, really old,” Victor promised and pressed his forehead against Yuuri’s.

Yuuri giggled. It was a very funny image, definitely, and they kept joking about it the rest of the way to the change rooms.

“Yuuri Nikiforov and Victor Katsuki! They would announce,” Victor exclaimed, “and out would come these two old grandpas with walking sticks and –”

Yuuri burst out laughing even louder. “You said “Yuuri Nikiforov and Victor Katsuki”!”

“What?” Victor froze and then the smile on his face widened. “Oh yeah, well… Obviously, by then we would’ve skated for so long that they would forget who has which last name. Maybe we should just take one and make life easier for them? Yuuri and Victor Katsuki! That’s easier to say, isn’t it?”

Yuuri nudged him with a laugh. “Or Yuuri and Victor Nikiforov?”

“Hmmm… Katsuki is shorter, though.”

They changed into their skates and went out onto the ice. Yuuri skated backwards and Victor followed.

“What about Katsuki-Nikiforov?” Yuuri asked. “Or Nikiforov-Katsuki?”

“Are you two trying out future last names?” a skater asked, passing by them.

“Good morning!” Yuuri and Victor said cheerfully.

“Just making a joke,” Victor said with a laugh.

“Everyone always thinks we’re dating,” Yuuri added, “so why not add to the joke?” He reached out and took Victor’s hand.

The skater rolled his eyes. “I don’t get why you keep saying that – you’re obviously dating. I mean – everyone here can see that.”

Yuuri and Victor exchanged a look and burst out laughing. “What? Really?”

They laughed the rest of the way around the rink until they spotted Mr. Feltsman standing on the other side of the rink with his arms crossed over his chest. The laughter froze on their lips and they skated over to their coach, determined to take their training seriously.

 

Two weeks later they still couldn’t settle on the music to use. Picking something for the compulsory and the original dances had been easy enough with the assigned dances, but the free dance continued to present a problem.

Mr. Feltsman lent them many CDs from his collection and the two skaters went through what felt like all of them with no luck.

This was a good piece, right? But not that great.

What about this one? No, this won’t do at all.

After a long debate about the type of program they wanted they decided to let the choice of music dictate what it would be. The big trick was – they needed something that would work both for the free skate at the junior level (where it would be 3 minutes long) as well as the free skate for the senior level (which required 4 minutes).

Three weeks later, with the original and compulsory dances’ choreography completely worked out, they were starting to panic. Feeling completely lost, they even confided in Aunt Alla about their big problem.

“The choice of music is really important,” Victor insisted. “We have to skate to it for a whole season, so it needs to be something we really like.”

Yuuri sighed. “Maybe we should just let Mr. Feltsman pick something for us. At this rate, we’ll never settle on anything.”

Aunt Alla was ironing their clothes on an iron board she’d set up in the middle of the living room. “You can always take one of the old Russian classics. Tchaikovsky or Rachmaninov, maybe?” the aunt had surprised them a few days earlier with her excellent knowledge of music, which was also when they’d discovered that she’d once been a music teacher at the Conservatory.

The skaters made non-committal noises in reply to this suggestion.

“Or you can take music with lyrics. I always thought Utesov had an amazing voice,” she said with a dreamy sigh.

Yuuri looked at Victor for an explanation, but got no help there.

“Let’s see…” the aunt said, “I should still have it somewhere…” She rummaged around in the bookshelves that lined the walls of the living room until she straightened up with a triumphant “aha!”

The skaters walked over to her and took in the little cassette tape in her hand.

“Of course, back when he was around they sold records and not cassettes and now I really should get a CD…”

They found an old cassette player and, to their surprise, it still worked.

Yuuri and Victor sat and listened to a deep male voice sing about the Black Sea and then about love.

They tried to like the music, they really did, but when they caught each other’s eye they both knew that they shared the same thought – there was just no routine they could come up with for music like this.

At that point they were both convinced that they’d heard every piece in existence. There was just no music that inspired them.

 

The next day Mr. Feltsman got straight to the point as soon as they finished wishing each other a good morning. “Well? Did you pick your music yet?”

Yuuri lowered his eyes. “We still need more time,” he said.

“You don’t have it,” his coach told them. “I picked something for you and there will be no arguing about it. You’ve used up your last chance.”

In fact, Mr. Feltsman went so far as to choreograph their entire free skate for them, telling them right away that if the skaters wanted to change any part of it, they’d have to do a good job of convincing him why he should let them.

They came home in low spirits that evening. Victor dropped onto the couch and Yuuri locked himself away in his room.

Aunt Alla watched all this in amazement. “What’s wrong?” she asked, sitting down next to Victor. “Did you two have a fight?”

Victor shook his head. “Yakov Davidovich,” Victor always did his best to remember to refer to his coach formally after his aunt gave him a long lecture about the correct forms of address, “picked our music and…” He considered how best to explain his problem to his aunt before settling for, “We don’t like it.” Somehow those words didn’t do their feelings justice, but he couldn’t think of anything else to add.

“He’s an experienced coach,” his aunt said. “He knows best.”

“I really wanted to pick my own music!” Victor protested. He imagined himself rebelling against his coach, arriving with his own music and announcing loudly enough for everyone to hear that he refused to skate to anything other than his own choice. That would teach Mr. Feltsman not to force them to take music they hated!

He raised his eyes and his gaze fell on the closed door of Yuuri’s room. He’d like that, wouldn’t he? Victor was even willing to fight for music that Yuuri picked out for them, even if he himself hated it. Making his decision, he rose to his feet and walked up to Yuuri’s door.

“Yuuri?” he called softly and knocked on his door. “Yuuri, I was thinking – we can still pick something ourselves. Yakov Davidovich will just have to deal with it.”

The door opened and Yuuri met him with a look of surprise on his face. “Why? We have music now. Let’s just focus on the training.”

Victor wanted to tell Yuuri not to be so weak-willed. They could fight for what they wanted, fight and win, he was sure of it! But he saw the look on Yuuri’s face and felt all the will to fight drain out of him.

His arms rose without him even stopping to think and he wrapped them around Yuuri. He was going through a little growth spurt and was a whole head taller than Yuuri now. It was making practice awkward, especially when Yuuri picked Victor up.

Yuuri buried his head in Victor’s chest without saying anything.

Again there was that feeling of letting themselves down. They were supposed to pick all their music. They were supposed to be old enough to make decisions like that themselves. Their coach had trusted them to do it and, yet, they’d failed completely.

“We’ll pick all our own music from now on,” Victor promised. “We can start thinking really early to give ourselves more time. We can start in January, if you like.” _If spring isn’t early enough for us._

Yuuri wasn’t letting go, but Victor wasn’t about to complain: Yuuri’s hugs always felt really nice.

Finally Yuuri stepped back and looked into Victor’s face. “Can we go for a walk?” he asked.

“Of course,” Victor nodded. “Auntie, do you need us to buy anything? We’re going out for a bit.”

She smiled at them. “No, no, enjoy your walk. Just be sure to put a jacket on – it’s getting really windy out.”

They pulled their jackets on and headed out.

It was a windy day, the kind that belonged at the end of winter and not at the end of spring, but they walked along the Neva as if it was a warm sunny day. They walked hand in hand, stopping from time to time to admire the view.

“What’s that building over there?” Yuuri asked and Victor knew that he was just making conversation. It didn’t matter what it really was and even if it did – Victor had no way of knowing what it was.

“Do you want to go over there and see?”

“Yes, please,” Yuuri said.

The wind played with Yuuri’s hair and the cold bit his cheeks, making them rosy. When Yuuri smiled Victor found himself smiling back without even stopping to think why.

On a whim, he took Yuuri’s other hand and pulled him into a dance. Yuuri went along with it, looking as if nothing in the world pleased him more than that dance in that place.

It was a slow and simple dance and it was some time before Victor realized they were moving to the rhythm of a waltz.

“Let’s go back,” Yuuri suggested after a while, “Auntie is getting lonely.”

Victor didn’t argue, but if those words usually conjured up an image of his aunt sitting in the kitchen all be herself, this time he didn’t think of her at all.

 

“We’re bringing you live from the Junior Grand Prix Final, from Ostrava in the Czech Republic and what an impressive lineup of figure skaters we have this year! What we’re seeing here is, without a doubt, the future of the sport!”

“Yes, and yesterday we saw an impressive performance by the men. Today we’ll get to watch the original dances of the ice dancing teams!”

The commentators always enjoyed junior events. It gave them a chance to let their imaginations run wild in what awaited the young athletes and they never tired of expressing their surprise at what teenagers were capable of on the ice.

“That’s senior level skating!” they would exclaim. “Look at that footwork! Look at those spins!”

When it was Yuuri and Victor’s turn the announcers were on top of the world. Now here was a team and they were just dying to know where the team would be in a couple of years.

“We saw them dominate the whole Grand Prix circuit so far,” one of the commentators said, “I can’t wait to see what kind of performance they will put on tonight!”

 

On the ice, Victor felt a new kind of nervousness fill his stomach. All this time they chased after the champions, trying to beat them, working together to come up with ways of getting more points than all of them and here they were – the favourites for the first ever time in their life. Everyone was trying to be better than them.

He caught Yuuri’s eye and saw the same expression on his face.

 _We deserve to win,_ Victor thought. _We’re the best,_ he whispered to Yuuri right before they took their initial positions.

Yuuri responded with a smile.

Mr. Feltsman had kept Georgi and Anya in Juniors and they’d competed against Yuuri and Victor at the Rostelecom Cup, competed and lost. It had felt unreal at the time and Victor was still wondering if it had really happened. Were they really here in the Grand Prix Final going last?

And then the music began and he forgot about everything else, focusing only on Yuuri.

He only remembered about everything else when the skate was over, when he realized they’d finished without a single mistake.

Yuuri’s hands were wrapped tightly around him. “Victor!” he exclaimed.

Victor hugged back as tightly as he could, but that was nothing compared to the hug after they saw how many points they were ahead of everyone else.

“Don’t think about the scores,” Mr. Feltsman told them both softly. “You need to focus on the free skate.” The Grand Prix Final had the skaters perform only the original dance and free skate.

Both pupils nodded in understanding.

 

Yuuri and Victor stood at the boards, preparing for their free skate. The very same free skate with the music that still they couldn’t make themselves like.

“We’re the best,” Victor whispered into Yuuri’s ear, “and we deserve to win this.” It became a pre-skating ritual after they won their original dance.

Yuuri already had another superstition: he downed a few gulps of water before setting the bottle down next to his skate guards at the same spot it had been when he’d picked it up.

“Don’t worry about the music,” Mr. Feltsman told them both quietly. “You have taken it and made this dance your own.”

Victor nodded and then watched Yuuri nod along.

“Ready?” Victor asked, holding out his hand.

“Yes,” Yuuri took it.

They skated out onto the ice with a little flourish, slipping into the personalities of two flamenco dancers.

“Representing Canada – Yuuri Katsuki and Victor Nikiforov!”

The audience went wild.

 _We are here. This is us now,_ Victor suddenly thought. _We can do this._ He closed his eyes, imagining they were standing in a square somewhere in Spain. Maybe one day he’d get to visit the country and see what it was like with his own eyes, but for now he would have to make do with his imagination.

_The hot Spanish sun beat down on them as musicians in the street began to play and Yuuri raised his arms, moving around him to a beat that was almost hypnotic…_

It was a beautiful dance, full of many intricacies. As always, they moved close to each other, their legs a few centimeters away, as if tempting them to get tangled up in each other.

Yuuri had grown taller over the summer so that Victor was barely taller than him again. They had to adjust to their changes in height for all the elements, but Victor couldn’t help thinking how happy he was that Yuuri could still lift him.

Their free skate included several spins for them to perform together. These, too, had felt awkward with their brief height difference, but now they were right again. Yuuri and he held on to each other as they spun together.

They were getting near the end now. A little more, a few more vital seconds and they would be there.

He dropped at Yuuri’s feet with as much flair as he could just as his partner raised his arms and the skate was over.

_Perfect!_

Yuuri pulled him up to his feet and Victor they threw their arms around each other. That was absolutely perfect!

“You’re the best partner anyone could ask for,” Victor whispered into Yuuri’s ear.

“No, you are,” Yuuri protested.

He felt like he could do anything. The Nationals were next and a real chance to participate in the Olympics, but neither of them thought about that in that moment.

As they made for the kiss and cry they saw Mr. Feltsman smiling at them. They’d even met their coach’s approval!

They left the ice, still hand in hand and sat down beside their coach.

“That was a very good skate,” their coach said, but if there was anything else he wanted to say after that, it got cut off, because in that moment the scores were posted and both pupils threw their arms around their coach.

The gold medal of the Finals was theirs.

Afterwards, when Victor’s mother took Yuuri and Victor out for a celebratory ice cream in the fanciest café they could find, they thought again about their coach.

“It must seem strange to him,” Yuuri said, putting his chin in his hand. “He’s a Russian coach who lives in Russia and he’d spent so much time training Georgi and Anya, who also represent Russia, and here we are – taking the gold away from them!” He met Victor’s eyes across the table. “And you’re Russian too. Wouldn’t it make sense for him to ask us, if we want to represent Russia in the future?”

Victor shrugged. “I don’t see why he should. Neither of us has Russian citizenship.”

Yuuri stirred his spoon in his ice cream with a thoughtful look on his face. “They’re going to pick who will compete in the Olympics next year based on how the Nationals go. There are a lot of good Canadian teams…” He sighed and went silent.

“I think you both did really well,” Victor’s mother piped up. “We’re all very proud of you.” She kissed both boys on the cheek. “Do you want me to talk to Yakov Davidovich about it?”

“No,” Victor said. “I doubt the thought even crossed his mind. That man doesn’t think in terms of countries. He thinks in terms of everyone skating their best and getting good scores from the judges.” He reached out and put his hand over Yuuri’s. “So don’t worry about it, okay?”

Yuuri gave him a smile and returned to his ice cream.

Victor’s mother sat there and watched them talk. He wondered what she made of it all and realized with a pang that while he valued her opinion, it wouldn’t sway him one way or the other as it once had. Yuuri’s on the other hand, meant the world.

“Do you boys want anything else?” she asked.

Victor looked away from Yuuri, his hand sliding away on the table. “I’m okay,” he told his mother. “Thank you.”

She fiddled with his hair. “It’s gotten so long!” she said. “Aren’t you going to cut it?”

“I like it long,” Yuuri piped up.

That day was one of the rare occasions when Victor left his hair loose. Usually it was either tied back in a ponytail or a bun so it wouldn’t get in his way. Yuuri had never complimented it before and Victor felt himself blush a little at those words. “Thanks!”

Yuuri smiled at him.

He forgot that his mother was still there and slid forward in his chair to say, “You know, when we were out on the ice today, I was imagining us going to Spain. Wouldn’t it be great?”

“Watch some real flamenco dancers, you mean?” Yuuri said with a dreamy expression on his face.

Victor made a dismissive wave. “We can out-dance them.”

Yuuri sighed. “I don’t know.”

“We can, Yuuri!” Victor hissed at him. “And I know we can make it to the Olympics! I can just feel it, you know?”

There was doubt in Yuuri’s face again. Victor wondered where it all came from. There seemed to be more of it every day.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“No,” Yuuri shook his head.

 

Dina was in the stands for the Junior Grand Prix Final. She saw her son skate out onto the ice and win. She saw the confidence he radiated and the way he motivated Yuuri before their skate. She watched the two skaters move together on the ice and she sighed.

Victor wasn’t a little boy anymore and he wasn’t _her_ little boy anymore. His letters back home got shorter and their tone changed. He didn’t list things that surprised him. He didn’t confide any of his fears or hopes in her. Alla told her about the search for music, but Victor hadn’t mentioned it as if it was taken care of. And now she saw the way Victor was looking at Yuuri.

 _I missed it all,_ she thought miserably. _I should’ve moved with you and watched you every minute._

It was too late to move now. She was afraid that her presence would only become a nuisance. Her two older sons had already moved out and the house was empty and quiet without them.

To make it worse, Victor and Yuuri seemed to be lost in a world of their own where there was no room for her.

They walked back to the hotel together and Yuuri and Victor went on about the Olympics. They switched between Russian and English without noticing it and even that was strange to Dina.

Both boys spoke without an accent and didn’t make a single grammar mistake the whole time.

They only remembered about her when they got to the hotel. They were rooming together to save money and she’d ended up taking a different room to not get in the way. She wished them both a good night and watched the door close behind them.

She should’ve persuaded her husband or Hiroko to come with her.

As it was, she called home as soon as she locked the door of her room and told her husband all about their son growing up without them.

 

They were so close, so _very_ close. Victor could already imagine himself at the 2006 Olympics, Yuuri and him going out onto the ice and wining that coveted Olympic gold. He imagined them taking a stroll through Torino and then going down to Rome, or maybe Venice. Italy sounded like a really nice place to visit.

He didn’t take a break even for his birthday and trained his hardest with Yuuri.

As before when they could only watch from the sidelines, the senior competition felt so _big_. Not only was everyone older and more experienced, but there was a shift in the atmosphere too.

Gone was the idle chit-chat in the change room and the people who wanted to be friends with everyone disappeared as well. Every skater was laser-focused and completely calm.

Yuuri shrank to Victor’s side without a single word. Victor put an arm around him.

They released each other to change into their costumes for the skate and, despite the cold calm, they put their arms around each other again.

“We’re the best, the absolute best!” Victor whispered into Yuuri’s ear.

Yuuri clung on so tightly Victor could feel his heartbeat through their costumes.

 

They were in the first group to go out on the ice. This time it felt warmer out on the ice than it had in the change room.

Victor did his best to convey with every line of his body that he belonged here and should’ve been here a year ago, but Yuuri was still radiating doubt.

As Mr. Feltsman gave his usual lecture, Victor wrapped an arm around Yuuri. “I want a skate like the one at the Final,” the coach said. “Think about that. Don’t let yourself get distracted by everything else. Understand?”

They nodded.

“And now, representing Western Ontario – Yuuri Katsuki and Victor Nikiforov!”

Cheers went up from the audience, but they weren’t all that loud. Somewhere in the crowd their parents were watching, but Victor didn’t look for them this time. His eyes were still on Yuuri.

“I’m ready,” Yuuri whispered as they skated out onto the ice.

His costume sparkled under the lights. He lifted his graceful arms and Victor got into position at the same time.

He’d seen the way some of the skaters and even journalists looked at them. Even at 15 and 17 they were still children in everyone’s eyes. They’d grown a bit taller over the winter, but neither of them was that bothered by this change. They had, after all, grown taller together and that was all that mattered.

The music began and Victor lost himself in the skate, playing the part as best as he could. Several steps away Yuuri did the same, shining under the lights. For a short time he forgot about the audience and the judges, and even about what was at stake.

He came to when the skate was done, when he saw the ecstatic smile on Yuuri’s face.

Loud cheers and applause erupted from the stands. They were louder than they’d been when the skaters had come out onto the ice.

Yuuri spun Victor around and they both bowed, first – in the direction of the judges, then – facing the other way.

The scores they got didn’t disappoint.

Victor followed the results of the other pairs closely, but their names remained at the top of the board until the last group of skaters came out onto the ice.

But when he saw the way Marie-France Dubreuil and Patrice Lauzon skated he knew they’d been beat.

“Wow,” Yuuri whispered when they finished. “I want to skate like that!”

Victor waited for the scores to be posted, for the results to be set in stone with no chance of anything changing last minute before turning to Yuuri and exclaiming, “Second! We’re actually in second place!”

“We still have the original dance and the free skate,” Yuuri reminded him, but Victor could see the spark in his eyes.

“I know, but look at how close we are! Just a little more!” Victor insisted.

He was going to add more, but that was when the press found them.

 

The theme of the compulsories was salsa and, again, Victor did his best to keep Yuuri’s mood up.

“We are the best,” Victor assured him and made Yuuri repeat it a few times before they came out onto the ice to listen to their coach talk.

This time the coach didn’t bother with a motivational speech in favour of reminding them what to keep in mind when they skated. Victor couldn’t help feeling as if he was back in his training arena.

“Go,” Mr. Feltsman told them just as their names were announced.

This time the cheers that greeted them were more enthusiastic than last time.

They waved up at the audience, slipping into their roles for the dance.

Yuuri was in a dark pink skating outfit with long ruffles tumbling down from his waist that suggested a short skirt. The colour really suited Yuuri and Victor hadn’t hesitated to tell him this when Yuuri had first tried it on. Victor’s outfit wasn’t half as interesting. All he managed to get was a deep cut at the front of his shirt to match the cut in Yuuri’s top.

Victor had one hand under his partner’s back to support Yuuri as he arched back and exposed his neck. Victor let his other hand trail over Yuuri’s neck and just as a strange feeling filled his stomach Yuuri straightened up with an excited smile and played his part.

They’d watched a lot of salsa videos to get a feel for this type of dance. It wasn’t just about the way they had to touch each other (and that was quite different this time), but about getting the right kind of playfulness across. Add to that the challenge of staying very close to each other for most of the routine and the end result was a truly difficult program.

Somewhere in the back of his mind Victor couldn’t help marvelling at how different Yuuri seemed now from the nervous skater before. He felt it fire him up as well, pushing him forward, making him want to do more.

The routine ended and he stood, feeling his blood pump with a new kind of energy.

They bowed with a little flourish and Victor pulled Yuuri close.

“That was really good,” he whispered into Yuuri’s ear.

Yuuri put his hands on Victor’s back. “Thank you.”

What felt really good was seeing Marie-France Dubreuil and Patrice Lauzon skate out onto the ice right after them and knowing they were the last ones to go. The only thing better than that was seeing the scoreboard afterwards.

Second place! They were still in second place!

They threw their arms around Mr. Feltsman, trapping him in a big embrace from both sides.

He grumbled something incoherent and then patted them both on the backs. “Rest,” he ordered. “You’ve earned it. We’ll talk about the free skate tomorrow.”

They nodded at this, feeling really light-headed.

The rest of the evening passed in a kind of haze – they answered questions from the press and from their parents, feeling as if everyone else was somewhere far away.

The reality of how close they were to their dream only hit them that evening.

Victor and Yuuri lay in their beds on either side of a little table and stared up at the ceiling. They’d both taken turns to shower and brush their teeth, doing it all without really thinking. A big thought was taking up most of the room in their heads, leaving little room for anything else.

“If we go to Torino,” Victor whispered, “I want to go see Rome and Venice.”

Yuuri reached out and took Victor’s hand. “Don’t…” he whispered back.

Victor went silent, wondering if it really was too early to make plans. They were second in both the compulsory as well as the original dances. Surely that was enough to put them on the Olympic team, regardless of how they did in the free skate?

He felt Yuuri’s hand tighten on his. _We are the best,_ he told himself. _We deserve to be in the Olympics._

 

Mr. Feltsman was saying something, but Victor wasn’t listening. He was watching Yuuri close his eyes, breathe in and then open his eyes again. There was an intensity in them Victor only saw on rare occasions.

“Let’s do this,” Yuuri whispered.

Victor nodded.

“Next on the ice – Yuuri Katsuki and Victor Nikiforov!”

This time the roar from the audience was even louder than last time. It made his heart beat faster in his chest.

 _Don’t think about them,_ he told himself. _Focus._

He lowered himself in front of Yuuri and knew that behind him Yuuri dropped to one knee. Again, he thought about Spain and his half-promise to go visit it with Yuuri.

He imagined the musicians sitting with their guitars as they played the tune.

 

_Yuuri got up and began to dance, pulling Victor in after him. Around them the crowd watched and clapped along to the tune._

_The sun beat down on them, reflecting off the cobblestones in the street, and still they danced on._

That day was seeing the debut of 1 extra minute of their skate – they added two elements in the middle to meet the four minute requirement of the senior free skate.

He couldn’t help urging it all on. They were almost there, almost done. He just had to reach out and grab the victory for himself.

Faster!

Forgetting himself, he moved too quickly, messing up a step and just as Yuuri caught him they fumbled together before dropping into the final position.

The music ended.

Yuuri pulled Victor up. Victor was sure his heart had stopped somewhere in those last few seconds.

But Yuuri kept smiling.

Victor forced himself to smile back. It was fine, just a little thing. They’d get a little deduction, but they would still be alright.

But when the scores were posted, his face fell.

Mr. Feltsman grumbled something about timing, but Victor was in no state to listen. To think that such a little thing could take it all away.

Yuuri squeezed his hand. “Victor?”

He couldn’t even make himself meet Yuuri’s gaze. “I’m sorry.”

“We made a mistake,” Yuuri said calmly, “but we’ll just have to learn from it, right? Like Mr. Cialdini always says to say.”

Victor nodded.

They watched the last pair go out on the ice, having no doubts whatsoever that they would take first place, leaving them all the way down in fourth.

Yuuri put an arm around him. “I wish I knew how to cheer you up,” he whispered. “You’re always so good at cheering me up, but when it’s my turn I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s okay,” Victor assured him. “I’ll be fine.”

But it was hard to swallow their defeat when he knew how close they’d come. It was hard to say “everything will be fine” when he felt his chance slip away, when it felt like the whole world was ending, when a silver medal slipped out of their grasp and they missed the podium completely.

 

When Skate Canada announced their decision for who they would send to the Olympics and who they would send to Senior Worlds, Victor locked himself away in his room, refusing to speak to anyone.

Of course they wouldn’t be picked. Skate Canada invited the silver and gold medalists only and Victor wondered if it was really down to the placement in the Nationals, or if deep inside the skating officials thought they were still not ready.

 _Children_.

What made it all worse was finding out that Russia was sending Georgi and Anya along with a few of their other rink mates. Most of the coaches would go with them.

Victor pulled his hand through his hair in frustration.

A knock on the door made him raise his head. “Yes?”

“Victor?” Yuuri called. “I made hot chocolate. Do you want some?”

“I’d rather stay here,” he admitted, “but…” he hesitated, “but you can come in.”

The door opened and he watched Yuuri enter with a steaming cup in his hands. He placed it very carefully on Victor’s table before turning around and hesitating in front of him.

Victor put his hands over his face, doing his best to hold the tears back.

“I was thinking…” Yuuri said softly and Victor made himself take his hands away and look at Yuuri. “Will you come skate with me a little? Just… Not training, but…” He looked away. “You know – a public rink where there are other people and they just go around in a circle and don’t do anything else?”

It was still winter and there were dozens of those throughout St. Petersburg. Every shopping mall seemed to have one these days, not to mention all the outdoor ones.

He nodded. “Let’s go find the most crowded rink and skate there.”

Yuuri gave him a faint smile. “I think I know which one that is.”

It felt so strange and almost wrong to go around in a simple circle, just moving forward along with a densely packed crowd, with Yuuri clinging on to his arm.

They were outside and Yuuri’s face was a little pink from the cold. Victor pulled him a little closer.

Somewhere in the distance music played, but the din from the big crowd made it difficult to make out any melody whatsoever.

And then it started to snow. Large snowflakes tumbled out of the sky and got caught in Yuuri’s eyelashes. For the briefest of moments it didn’t matter that they didn’t get into the Olympics.

“Victor?” Yuuri asked.

He realized he was grinning and that he wasn’t really sure why, but what did it matter? His heart sang and there was hope again. They’d have to work their hardest over the next four years and make it to the 2010 Olympics. They _had_ to make it to those, there was no doubt about it.

“I wish I could skate like this all night long,” Victor confessed. “Isn’t that strange? We’re not doing anything special, just going around in a circle…”

Yuuri squeezed his hand tighter. “I understand,” he said.

_I knew you would._

 

Yubileyny Sports Palace was eerily empty and quiet throughout the Olympics. That’s not to say that no one was training or that all the coaches were gone, but the usual bustle was nowhere to be found.

Mr. Feltsman left his students with their lifts and spins coach, Maria Dmitrievna, in charge.

On their second day of training with just her, she called them aside for a talk before their training. “I was watching a recording of your skate at the Nationals. I know what your trouble is.”

“Really?” they asked.

“It’s a common problem for pair skaters and ice dancers – when you’re out there on the ice you need to tell each other something, but you don’t have the time to stop and chat,” she told them. “You’ve got a few minutes to skate your best, barely enough time to say a few sentences.”

Victor held his breath, waiting for a miracle.

“What you need is a few key words,” Maria Dmitrievna explained.

“Key words?” Yuuri repeated thoughtfully.

“Yes, for example, your mistake in the very end was because Victor started to rush, so next time you could say “time” and know that it means “don’t rush”. See?”

They looked at each other and then back at her.

“You’ve skated this program many times, so you know what mistakes you commonly make. There’s Victor’s rushing at the end, and, Yuuri, you’re always a little rigid in the beginning of the original dance,” she told them. “Before you go out on the ice you need to talk through your program. You need to agree that when you get to the end, for example, you will say “time” to remind each other not to rush and the same with any other part that you struggle with.”

Maria Dmitrievna waited for them to absorb the meaning of her words in silence.

“That’s so simple and so smart!” Yuuri said. Victor could see that he really liked the idea.

“Let’s try it then, shall we?”

As Victor and Yuuri discussed which routine they wanted to practice next and how they wanted to do it Victor couldn’t help thinking how useful it was to have a fresh pair of eyes to look at their skating and give them some advice.

 

The first time they used the words in a competition was at the Four Continents, where they helped them secure their win and then again at Junior Worlds where the dominated all three segments.

“Tell us, Victor,” one of the journalists asked, “what did you whisper into your partner’s ear before you started your salsa routine?”

Victor turned to look at Yuuri. That word had been their little secret and nothing in the world could persuade him to tell anyone, let alone the press, about it.

He saw Yuuri watch him, waiting to see what answer he’d give.

Victor put an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders and pulled him closer. “Just something for him to think about.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have nothing against Malagueña myself. Sometimes music just really doesn’t click with people. Apparently, it didn’t click with Tessa and Scott (maybe they should’ve picked a different arrangement?), but [here is their routine to it anyway](https://youtu.be/LvsUSo4gJgk).  
> [And here is the Salsa.](https://youtu.be/VBR5NdkxzpQ) (not a very good quality version sadly).  
> Unfortunately, I couldn’t find a video of their compulsory dance.


	11. Pain

The word Victor had whispered to Yuuri was “flirt”. It was nothing more than a reminder of a conversation they’d had about the salsa dance and, so, they did their best to flirt on the ice, flirting both with each other as well as with the audience.

Their senior debut came the following season. They didn’t medal in the Senior GPF, but a silver in the Nationals got them into the coveted Senior Worlds, where they ended up in sixth place.

“What we really need to do,” Yuuri said one morning during their usual commute to the rink, “is get into that last group.”

The top five figure skating teams got to be in the same group for practice sessions and warm-ups and there was always a little bit of bias from the judges in their favour.

Victor nodded. He tried to focus on Yuuri’s words, but his eye was caught by several girls who were throwing glances their way and giggling.

Dismissing them from his thoughts, he turned instead to talking about their music for the following season.

They’d already picked the Argentine Tango for their compulsory program. Despite all the troubles the Assassination Tango had given them that season, they both ended up picking another tango piece to skate to. That left only their original dance and free skate music.

The train reached their stop and they got out, walking side by side, deep in conversation.

Someone bumped into Yuuri, apologized and rushed off.

Victor took Yuuri gently by the arm and led him to the exit.

“I think… That guy stuck his hand in my pocket!” Yuuri exclaimed, making Victor stop and turn.

“What? Did he just run off with your wallet?”

“N-no,” Yuuri stammered out. “It’s right here, but…” he pulled a little piece of paper out. There was a string of numbers on it.

Both skaters stared at it absently.

“A phone number?” Victor suggested.

“Must be some kind of prank…” Yuuri said after a while. “Maybe it’s meant to see if I’ll actually call it or something?”

“Some people are just weird like that.” Victor took the paper out of Yuuri’s hand and tossed it in the nearest garbage can. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Yesterday when I was at the store a girl tried to give me her number,” Yuuri said as they continued to walk for the exit.

“How did I miss that?” Victor asked. “We were together the whole time!”

Yuuri gave him a faint smile. “Not the whole time. We split up, remember? You wanted to get through the list faster and went in the diary aisle while I went to get bread.”

“Oh.” Victor remembered now. “I promise I won’t leave you alone next time. If people are just going to –”

“It’s fine,” Yuuri assured him. “Just a harmless prank.” He thought some more about this. “Maybe it’s a popular prank, or something?”

“A bit odd to give strangers a phone number, though.”

“Yeah…”

Victor promised himself to keep an eye on Yuuri and the people around him to make sure it didn’t happen again.

 

On their commute home after a long day of practice they got stuck in a carriage completely packed with people. Yuuri had to hold on to Victor for balance, but at least this time no one bothered them.

“One more stop,” Victor said, catching Yuuri’s eye.

Yuuri nodded with a smile and moved to stand closer to Victor.

Victor took driving lessons on some of the evenings. He wanted to get a car so they could take little trips outside of the city from time to time.

That evening Yuuri ran errands alone while Victor spent most of his lesson worrying someone would bother him again.

But when Victor returned from his lesson Yuuri assured him that he was fine

Aunt Alla watched their conversation with an odd look on her face, but didn’t say anything until Yuuri went to take a shower. “Is someone bothering Yuuri?” she asked.

“A few people were,” Victor told her and lowered his voice, “I’m very worried about him. Yuuri isn’t the type to tell someone to leave him alone until they get really annoying. And even then…”

There was a knowing look on her face. “Our Yuuri is turning into a very handsome man.”

“Well, yes,” Victor agreed, a little puzzled. What did that have to do with anything?

“As are you,” the aunt added.

Victor laughed. “You flatter me, auntie!”

The aunt looked like she wanted to add something else, but then changed her mind and returned to the kitchen without another word.

Victor, assuming it was nothing more than teasing, didn’t give her words a second thought.

 

Two days later they found their original dance music. They were out for a walk down Nevsky Prospect when they passed a street musician playing a catchy melody.

The skaters stopped and listened to the whole thing. Victor tossed a few coins into the musician’s violin case.

As the violinist prepared to play something else Victor asked, “What’s the piece called?”

The musician gave him a surprised look. “Ochi Chornyje. I thought everyone knew it!”

Victor, feeling a little embarrassed, said, “I just didn’t know the name…”

They rushed home after that, determined to find a good arrangement of the piece. As it turned out, the name wasn’t enough and they listened to many arrangements before finding one that they liked.

There were lyrics to go with the music and the aunt bustled around in the kitchen, singing them after they’d settled on a version they liked.

“ _Dark eyes, passionate eyes_ …” she sang.

Victor and Yuuri exchanged happy smiles. There was something very comforting about the sound of her singing, just as there was something comforting about sitting on the couch side by side and imagining what their routine to the music needed to be.

Yuuri fiddled with Victor’s fingers as he spoke, “With lyrics like that we’ll need to do something passionate.”

“Hmm…” Victor hummed in agreement.

“But we still need a third piece,” Yuuri said to him and looked into Victor’s face. He laughed. “I think it’s bedtime for both of us: you look like you’re already half-asleep!”

“Five more minutes…” Victor murmured, getting another laugh out of Yuuri.

“Auntie,” Yuuri called, “let’s watch a movie together.”

It had become a tradition for them to gather together on the couch in the evenings and watch a movie. They never planned what they’d watch, or even cared. They just let the aunt flip through the channels on TV and pick whatever she liked.

This time was no different. She sat down next to Yuuri and picked up the remote.

Victor put his head on Yuuri’s shoulder and pretended to sleep.

Auntie caught the opening credits of a movie, missing the title by mere seconds. The room filled with a sad melody.

Victor sat up, but remained quiet.

The movie started off innocently enough, but everyone watched it as if unable to turn away. It was a story of two lovers, cruelly separated by fate.

The woman begged her lover not to go with tears on her face and Victor felt Yuuri’s hand tighten over his. But no matter how the woman pleaded with him, the man went anyway, leaving her for the war.

They were two teenagers, as old as Yuuri and Victor. Maybe that was what made it all so real. Maybe that was why him leaving her without knowing she was carrying his baby hurt so much. Maybe that was the reason they both felt so betrayed when he returned to discover she’d married someone else.

As the movie ended Yuuri wept into Victor’s shoulder. Victor felt a few tears sliding down his face as well.

“Oh dear, haven’t you two seen _The Umbrellas of Cherbourg_ before?” the aunt asked them.

“No,” Victor said, “but, Auntie, I think you found the perfect music for our free skate!”

Yuuri raised his head. His eyelashes were all wet, but he smiled through the tears and agreed with Victor. The music was perfect.

 

_“Mon amour…”_

Yuuri’s hands trembled in Victor’s as they skated across the ice.

Victor couldn’t help the feeling of worry every time he heard the music from that movie.

They released each other and moved to opposite sides of the ice.

_“No, I couldn’t live without you.”_

It took several skate-throughs before the music stopped having such a powerful effect on them and they learned to focus instead on playing the characters.

“You have dark hair,” Victor had said before they’d started, “so you should play Guy about to go off to war. I’ll be Geneviève.” He smiled and put a hand over his stomach. “Do I have to imagine I’m carrying your child too, do you think?”

Yuuri laughed.

“Don’t go off to war, Yuuri,” Victor said, doing his best to sound as upset as possible. “I can’t live without you!”

Yuuri gave him a serious look. “I have to. I’ll get in trouble if I don’t go.”

“I’ll hide you somewhere,” Victor suggested. “My mother is dead set against it, but I want to marry you anyway! In secret, if I have to.”

Yuuri took Victor’s hands, kissed each of them before releasing them again. He skated away, going backwards and keeping his eyes on Victor who followed.

They went around without music this time, going from element to element. They knew what they needed to for this routine. If before they were trying to master a dance and the feel of it, now they had to learn how to play specific characters, especially since people expected to see those characters. They had to play a sweet and delicate love, quite unlike the fiery passion of their compulsory and original dances.

Yakov and Lilia took turns coaching them through this.

 

Two days later found them practicing their original dance.

_“Dark eyes,_

_Passionate eyes,_

_Burning eyes and such beautiful eyes.”_

The words that went with the music rang in Victor’s head as they practiced their routine. Despite the name of the song, the routine didn’t let them look into each other’s eyes.

Only afterwards when they were in the change rooms did Victor look into Yuuri’s face and think about how dark his eyes were.

Yuuri gave him a puzzled look. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Had they always been that deep? Victor wondered.

Yuuri smiled and turned away, hiding his eyes.

_Are my eyes that deep?_

That evening Victor stared at his own face in the mirror and studied his eyes. They weren’t as deep as Yuuri’s. No, they were clear and honest. You couldn’t hide or bury anything in them.

 

All that, of course, left only the compulsory dance.

Victor told himself that he and Yuuri were getting good at playing a passionate couple. This time the challenge wasn’t that, but keeping up the speed and staying in synch the whole time. Add to that keeping the bent knee and the deep, deep edges and the end result was a killer of a routine.

Victor found himself rubbing his shins after every practice.

“Are you alright?” Yuuri asked.

Victor gave him a smile. “I’m fine, nothing to worry about. What about you?”

Yuuri gave a kind of shrug. “Same as always. Here,” he lowered himself at Victor’s feet. “Where does it hurt? Here?” His fingers trailed gently over Victor’s shins, looking for the right spot.

“You don’t have to…” Victor protested, but nodded when Yuuri reached the right spot.

“I want to,” Yuuri said simply.

Victor closed his eyes. It felt rather nice to have Yuuri massaging his legs.

“You’re probably better off getting a professional to do this,” Yuuri said after a while. “I don’t pretend that I can do it as well as they can.”

_It feels nice either way._ He made a non-committal noise in reply, keeping his eyes closed.

He thought of Yuuri’s touch – always so gentle, even when he lifted Victor. The skater wasn’t the kind to have a vice-like grip, but Victor always trusted himself in Yuuri’s hands. The thought that he could be dropped never entered his mind.

“Is that enough?” Yuuri’s voice cut into Victor’s thoughts.

He opened his eyes and nodded. “Yes.” _You didn’t have to do that, but…_

Yuuri pulled away and rose to his feet. He waited for Victor to put his shoes on and pack his things before holding out his hand so they could go home side by side.

They exchanged smiles and talked about little everyday things. They felt so at peace together and it didn’t matter what was happening around them, even if nature decided to start acting up and it poured like crazy or if they got buried in a mad snowfall – they had a kind of paradise together.

Victor’s shins ached again and again, after every single compulsory dance practice, but never after the other dances. He dismissed it as a side effect of the bent knee and deep edges. It was just this one routine, he told himself. He just needed to get through it.

But Yuuri was taking the pain much more seriously. After a month of agony he started to express more worry.

“How will you compete?” he asked Victor one afternoon. “When we do the compulsory on its own you should be able to pull through and, of course, if we can get into the Final, we won’t have to worry about it, but what about those practice sessions when you need to skate the compulsory and the original dances after each other?”

Victor tried to look like it was all nothing. “I’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“How can you say that?” Yuuri exclaimed and Victor saw the tears in his eyes. “You’re my partner and my best friend. Of course I worry about you!”

Victor pulled him into a hug. “I’ll go see a physiotherapist,” he promised. “I’m sure they’ll help.”

Yuuri stepped back, still clinging to Victor’s shirt. “I’m frightened,” he admitted in a whisper.

“It’s just this compulsory program,” Victor said. “We’ll be fine.”

Yuuri’s eyes were deep and yet Victor could feel them digging into his own, as if he was trying to see just how much pain he was in.

Victor did his best to look like everything was fine.

It wasn’t long before they were given their Grand Prix assignments.

The skating rink was buzzing with excitement once more. Everyone was getting ready.

“You need to use the Final as a springboard for Worlds,” Yakov told them one morning. He said nothing about the Nationals and both skaters knew that their coach was so confident they would win them that he didn’t think it worth wasting his time discussing them.

Yuuri was getting more and more nervous with each practice. He worried about Victor, but, not wanting for word to get out about his pains, he only showed his worry when there was no one around.

Victor continued to assure him that it was all fine and that, really, the pain wasn’t as bad as Yuuri thought, that it went away after they finished skating the compulsory dance, that it was all under control and so on.

There was always that look in Yuuri’s face that suggested that he wasn’t convinced.

By the time they got to their first Grand Prix assignment Victor learned a simple trick that made the pain go away quickly: as soon as they were done with their compulsory program and went somewhere out of sight of everyone else Victor took his skates off.

“It’s just this season,” Victor kept saying and then he would take Yuuri by the hands and look into his eyes. “We’re the best in the world.”

“Victor, I –”

“Come on, say it with me.”

“Alright.” He closed his eyes, let out a breath and opened his eyes again. “We’re the best in the world.”

 

The first competition of that season was marked by another little surprise.

“Look at that!” Yuuri exclaimed as they went out onto the ice for their warm up.

Victor turned to look and spotted someone in the crowd waving a big poster over their head. “Yuuri and Victor are the best” the sign read. People were anticipating their skating this season.

Victor leaned closer to Yuuri to whisper, “Even our fans know we’re the best in the world.”

Yuuri gave the person with the poster a little wave and a smile. He was in a deep red dress with a cut at the thigh and a deep opening at the front and back.

Victor was all in black with his hair tied up and decorated with flowers that matched the colour of Yuuri’s dress. He gave the fan a wave as well and then blew a kiss, much to the fan’s delight. Victor stepped up right behind Yuuri and they did their best to look like a passionate couple as the announcer introduced them to the audience.

 

Victor fought hard through the Grand Prix so they could make it to the Final.

For a while they got a break from the compulsory program, but Yuuri was still nervous. He made a mistake in the twizzle sequence and they ended up in fourth place, just behind Georgi and Anya.

“Sorry, Victor,” Yuuri apologized afterwards. “You’re always working so hard even with your pain and I…” He sat in the change room with his head lowered and his hands draped over his lap.

Victor slid closer and put an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders. “There’s nothing to apologize for,” he said. “We’re a team, right?”

Yuuri raised his head and looked into Victor’s face. He opened his mouth to say something when the sound of the door banging open made him jump.

Two skaters burst into the change room, filling the place with the sounds of a loud argument.

“How could you mess it up? We were just skating in a straight line! There was nothing there for you to trip over! Did you forget how to skate, or something?” one of the skaters shouted.

Victor felt Yuuri’s fingers tighten around his and gripped Yuuri’s shoulder tighter.

The skaters made for the showers on the other side of the change rooms, continuing their argument and not seeming to care that there were other people around them.

Victor didn’t know those two skaters, but the argument didn’t surprise him. Once, in his junior days he’d accidentally overheard two skaters having a big fight over their skate. It had shocked him at the time. Now he accepted it as a sad reality.

Yuuri’s cheek was pressed against his shoulder as his eyes stared up into Victor’s. “Victor…” he whispered.

“Let’s go get ice cream,” Victor offered, whispering into Yuuri’s ear. He was suddenly desperate to get out of the change room as quickly as possible.

He knew his father was waiting for them, but at that moment there was something much more important.

“Let’s go,” Yuuri agreed so quietly Victor barely heard him.

 

As Yakov and pretty much everyone else had expected, Yuuri and Victor won the Nationals.

This time it was Yuuri’s turn to be the optimistic one. “We did it!” he exclaimed when they got a moment to themselves at last. “We did it! We’re so close to the Olympics now!” He looked ready to do a little victory dance.

Victor smiled, doing his best not to think about the pain in his shins. “Yes.”

“What’s wrong?” Yuuri asked.

“Nothing, I think I’m just a little tired is all.”

They sat in the back of a taxi that was taking them back to their hotel. Their parents were following in a different taxi. They must’ve seen that the two skaters needed some time alone and offered to go separately before Victor could say anything.

He suppressed a sigh and tried to look happy about their win. He _was_ happy, he really was, but the pain was starting to really terrify him. What if he couldn’t skate through it next time? This was Yuuri’s lifelong dream and he didn’t want to let his partner down when they were getting so close. The Olympics were a mere 24 months away.

“Does it hurt now?” Yuuri asked softly.

“No, it’s fine,” Victor insisted. “Really.”

“Let’s rest a bit after the Nationals,” Yuuri suggested. He placed a hand carefully on Victor’s knee and looked into his eyes.

“No, no!” Victor protested. “We have the Four Continents to prepare for!”

Yuuri put his arms around Victor and kissed him on the cheek. “I wish I could share some of your pain,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “It isn’t fair.”

“Don’t say that,” Victor said, rubbing Yuuri’s back. “I would never want to see you in pain, especially not because of me.”

 

Yakov, who’d been a very straightforward (if strict) coach started to throw new challenges at his pupils. He flooded the rink twice a day to prepare his skaters for poor ice conditions. For Yuuri and Victor, who’d learned skating at the Ilderton Arena, the sight of terrible ice brought back some old memories.

Then he got them to do run-throughs of their program to a version of their music that had a recording of people’s voices over it and not just people’s voices, but ones that were shouting abuse and booing someone at random intervals.

“What’s gotten into old Yakov?” one of the skaters said one evening. “I don’t think the audience _ever_ shouts abuse. I bet they never have in the whole history of the sport.”

Georgi reclined on the bench. “He’s training us to compete in any conditions. Every few years he does this kind of thing.” He gave an absent-minded wave. “It’s meant to teach you to ignore the audience, so you don’t break down halfway through the routine and go,” he reclined dramatically in his bench, “oh no! The audience all hates me! They want that _other_ pair to win!”

Victor and Yuuri stood a little afar from everyone else. Yuuri hadn’t taken well to all the insults. First it had locked him in place and then it made him stumble and make mistakes as if this was his first time out on the ice. Victor had made use of his usual confidence boost: he’d made Yuuri close his eyes and say their mantra.

_We’re the best in the world._

It was hard for both skaters – despite how strict their coaches were, they’d gotten used to pleasing the audience. To be actually booed by an audience, even an imaginary one, felt terrible.

But Yakov refused to drop his unexpected approach. More than that, he carried on all the way to the Four Continents, where he’d cut into Yuuri and Victor’s conversation at the boards with really odd comments that just made no sense.

“What is he doing?” Yuuri whispered as they skated to their starting position.

“Trying to throw us off to prepare us for Worlds,” Victor answered. “I think.” He tried to think about that and not at all about the compulsory they were about to skate and the pain that would follow with it.

Yuuri gripped his hands, a determined expression on his face and Victor knew he was more focused than ever on their goal.

They won the Four Continents with a big lead, but it didn’t have their big rivals, Anya and Georgi, as well as all the other European pairs that gave them such a hard time before.

Still, it was a victory no one could take away and it gave them more confidence for Worlds even as the pain grew stronger with each compulsory dance.

 

That morning’s practice had been utter agony – the original and compulsory dance practice sessions were held together and it took every ounce of Victor’s self-control to keep from screaming or crying from the pain.

They couldn’t let anyone know about his pains. Even Victor’s family only found out the night before. They’d felt that something was off (they must’ve heard it in his voice) and he confessed over the phone that halfway into his compulsory dance he would feel as if he was starting to die and all while there was still another round and a half to go. If word got out, if the judges got wind of this, they’d expect the skaters to do worse and give them lower marks accordingly. Yakov had been adamant about this and they didn’t argue with him.

And, so, Victor’s only source of comfort was Yuuri who held him tightly before and after each skate to show his support.

Tango. The passions ran deep and, after many movies and odd stories on the subject, Victor was starting to feel like he knew what a deep passion was like.

The lights of the rink shone down on them. Again, Yuuri was in the deepest red and it made Victor think of blood.

The music began. Love and death mixed in one skate. He and Yuuri moved their legs together, bending their knees in parallel with each other as they built up speed and then showed the deepest edges ever.

The pain flared up again.

He thought about Yuuri. He had to do this for his partner. They needed a medal at Worlds. After that they had to keep climbing to the top to be ready for the Olympics.

Pain. All he could think about was pain.

He forced his mind to focus on the steps. Just a little more. This was their last skate of this routine. After this they’d never have to skate it again.

_You can do this,_ he told himself as they turned in another circle.

Still the music went on and he felt as if it had been playing forever, as if it had been going for hours and would never stop. The music would never end and neither would the pain. So much pain.

His smile didn’t falter. He didn’t let it.

Finally the skate was over and Victor dipped Yuuri and leaned over his neck, letting his nose touch his partner’s skin.

He wanted to run off the ice and pull his skates off right away, but he stayed and bowed to the audience with a happy smile on his face and Yuuri at his side.

The crowd went wild, screaming at the top of their voices, filling the rink with a deafening noise.

“Victor?” Yuuri murmured as they skated to the kiss and cry. “Are you alright?”

_It’s over. Oh god, it’s finally over._ He continued to smile. “I’m fine,” he said and it was mostly true.

They walked over to the bench and sat down.

Yakov started to say something when their marks were posted and the commentator cut in. “Look at that! Twenty points for the technical score and 18.71 for the presentation! The total is better than their personal best of 36 points! Incredible!”

Yuuri put an arm around Victor. “You did it,” he whispered into his ear.

Victor beamed and waved up at the audience as if everything was as great as it looked, as if his feet weren’t killing him.

And it _was_ great once he got his skates off and the pain subsided. It got even better after he visited his physiotherapist.

The most painful part was behind them.

 

The audience loved their original dance. It helped, of course, that the music was catchy, but the sight of Yuuri in his brightly-coloured outfit played a part in that as well, Victor was sure of it. Of course, he had an outfit to match.

The routine had several interesting spins with changes of position partway through, which they’d practiced time and again to get just right.

They really danced this time, letting their emotions take over.

Something odd happened then and for a moment they were out of synch before they were together again and Victor knew Yuuri made a mistake in the twizzles again.

But Yuuri’s expression didn’t change, not even when they finished their routine and left the ice. Only when he sat down did he lower his head with a pained look on his face.

This time they sat in the kiss and cry without saying a word, as if waiting for their death sentence.

The judges didn’t go easy on them and they dropped from second place all the way down to sixth.

“Victor,” Yuuri whispered, still not meeting his eye, “I’m so sorry. I messed it up again and after you did so well!”

He gave a little shake of his head. “Don’t apologize. Let’s think about the free skate now. Let’s make it our best skate ever.”

Yuuri raised his eyes and met Victor’s gaze. For a moment he was silent and then his face split in a big radiant smile and he gave a nod. “Yeah!”

 

They put a lot of effort into that last practice, going over every part of that skate and repeating any element they made mistakes in. Yuuri took extra care with the twizzles this time.

When they weren’t skating Victor kept Yuuri talking about the program. This part was meant to be that scene in the movie. Remember their pain of separation. Remember he was leaving for two years. And so on.

“Leaving for two years sounds terrible,” Yuuri said the night before as Victor crossed the room to lie down on his bed.

“It does,” Victor agreed, pulling his blanket up to his chin.

Yuuri sat on his bed and fidgeted. He threw a quick sideways look at Victor and then returned his attention to his hands. “I wouldn’t survive if we had to separate from each other for two years… No, even for two months.”

Victor couldn’t help feeling flattered at this admission. “Me too,” he said and wished their beds were close enough for him to reach out and take Yuuri’s hand.

They exchanged a smile and Yuuri turned the light off. “Two years…” he repeated in the dark.

Victor hummed a bit of the tune and Yuuri hummed the next part back.

_Two years…_ It felt like a lifetime.

 

“Next on the ice we have – Yuuri Katsuki and Victor Nikiforov, Canada!”

The voice boomed loudly over the speakers, followed closely by the sound of cheering.

They skated out, holding each other’s hands and trying to focus on one another. They needed to get into character, which meant that the audience didn’t get their usual enthusiastic waves.

There was a sadness in Yuuri’s eyes, despite the smile on his face and Victor knew he was thinking about the two years’ separation.

 

_He and Yuuri stood together at the station, knowing this was it. Who could say what awaited them in the next two years?_

_Yuuri was leaving and Victor felt his heart break at the thought. He tried everything he could to persuade Yuuri to stay, but had no luck. He was set on going and Victor knew he was powerless to stop him. Already he could feel Yuuri slipping away._

_There was nothing left to do now, but wait and hope that Yuuri would remain unharmed._

_He would be faithful. He would wait forever, if he had to. Even if Yuuri never returned, Victor would never be with anyone else._

 

Their faces came close and Victor pressed a brief kiss to Yuuri’s cheek. He’d never done it before and it wasn’t meant to be in the skate, but he’d let his emotions get the better of him and couldn’t stop.

The skate ended and for a moment Victor struggled to remember where he was and what was happening. Why were they out on the ice and why were there people applauding and cheering around them?

Then it all came back to him. _Was it good?_ Victor wondered and realized he barely had any memory of the skate, his mind still dwelling on how painful life would be without Yuuri.

They bowed and skated to the kiss and cry.

There was the biggest and happiest grin on Yuuri’s face Victor had ever seen. Even Yakov was smiling when they joined him. More than that, even _Lilia_ was smiling and she barely ever said a word to them during competitions.

They sat down to get their scores, but both Yuuri and Victor were too excited to think about how many points they’d get from the judges. They couldn’t even sit still and chatted like two people who’d been separated all eternity and needed to share every single thought they’d had during that time.

“That was… I was…” Yuuri struggled to get through a whole sentence, but Victor didn’t need to hear the rest. He knew what it was.

“Amazing!” Victor completed for him, putting one hand on Yuuri’s knee and giving it a gentle rub. “Incredible!”

“Ah!” Yuuri sighed. His eyes were sparkling.

“That lift near the end! I thought I was…” Now it was Victor’s turn to get overexcited as he spoke.

“…flying,” Yuuri finished for him.

“And the scores for Yuuri Katsuki and Victor Nikiforov are…”

Victor turned to look at the scoreboard, but he only saw one number: the little 1 next to their names. It was hard to guess where they’d end up overall, but, at least for now, they were first in the free skate and they’d beaten their personal best.

They watched all the other pairs go out on the ice after them, waiting for the final result. Georgi and Anya ended up getting a lower overall score than them, dropping down to what turned into third place. Victor and Yuuri took second.

As the French pair got their scores and took first place, Yuuri and Victor exchanged a congratulatory hug.

“You’re free dance world champions,” Victor heard Yakov say. “Congratulations!”

Victor, who was still holding on to Yuuri, felt him give a soft laugh and Victor could see the path before them then – keep training, give it their all and once they reached the Olympics – win. All with Yuuri at his side.

It felt too unreal. Even as they stood on the podium with the silver medal around their necks they couldn’t really believe it was happening. Did they really win silver? Was it really possible?

 

They were ready for the press this time and sat side by side at the press conference, exchanging happy smiles and talking about their hopes for the future.

“Tell us, are the rumours true – are you two dating?” one of the journalists asked. “After that romantic routine, we can’t help but notice what great chemistry you two have.”

Victor put a hand over Yuuri’s without even thinking about it. “We’re best friends,” he insisted. “Yuuri and I have skated together since we were little children.” He caught Yuuri’s eye again. “For the free dance we were playing a couple who is in love, so we’re really flattered that we managed to be convincing.”

Yuuri shifted closer in his chair. “It’s like actors,” he added, putting his chin in his hand and giving Victor a flash of another ecstatic smile, “if they’re convincing enough you start to think they should be together.”

“But you have great chemistry with each other even off the ice,” one of the journalists pointed out.

“I’ve been with Yuuri for a big part of my life,” Victor said. “We’ve learned how to be together and we both know we couldn’t possibly survive being apart.”

Beside him Yuuri agreed.

The journalists exchanged a smile and didn’t press the matter further.

Victor didn’t get a chance to read the articles they wrote about them afterwards. He didn’t have time for any of that, because as soon as Worlds ended the skaters dived headfirst into intense training.

It was time to become World Champions.

Twelve hours of training turned into fourteen.  The time they spent on the ice every day doubled from what it had been the previous season.

To Yakov’s great surprise this time Victor and Yuuri came to their first practice after Worlds with their choice of music ready.

“We want to skate to something different to show that we can do more than just classical music,” Victor said before putting on a mix of two songs by Pink Floyd.

He and Yuuri had made a bet on what Yakov’s reaction to it would be. Contrary to their expectations, the coach listened to their choice of music and didn’t argue with it. Victor suppressed his disappointment as best as he could. So much for surprising the old coach!

“We want to try more intricate lifts,” Yuuri spoke up, “and some unique ones that no one else has ever done.”

They’d been getting level fours for all their lifts, but still the criticism was there. Their lifts weren’t intricate enough, many people said, as if accusing them of taking the easy way out. Victor and Yuuri hadn’t cared much before, but now they knew that they needed to improve in every way they could. It had gone without saying – they both understood this instinctively.

In fact, they’d spent the whole flight back to St. Petersburg talking about lifts, going back and forth, completing each other’s sentences and building on each other’s ideas until they came to the agreement that they wanted to do something no pair had ever done before.

 

Two weeks later Yakov announced that he had his answer for them.

Yuuri and Victor watched in amazement as he flipped open a ballet magazine. They exchanged a curious glance and wondered what they were about to see.

Seeing the ballerinas on the cover, Victor raised an eyebrow to say that this looked like Yuuri’s area of expertise.

Yuuri’s eyes, meanwhile, were glued to the magazine, as if trying to catch a glimpse of every single page as Yakov flipped past it impatiently.

“This one!” the coach finally exclaimed and demonstrated a page showing a ballerina with her arms spread and one knee resting on the back of her partner, who was bent over in a squat position. “What do you say about doing this?”

_He’s kidding, right?_ Victor thought. He looked at Yuuri and then looked at Yakov and realized that he had no way of knowing whatsoever.

Yuuri, ever the model student, studied the picture for a while before saying. “We can try it?”

They both saw the question in Yakov’s eyes before he even said it. “Who will be lifting who?”

“I’m stronger, so I should do it,” Yuuri volunteered. Then he squatted and waited for Victor to climb onto his back.

Victor hesitated, let out a slow breath and climbed over Yuuri, trying to figure out where to put his leg. He tried to balance, but it was impossible and he jumped off before both of them could fall on the ground.

It really was as hard as it looked.

Yuuri straightened up as Yakov began to speak.

“You need to remember that you’ll be doing this on the ice,” the coach said. “Yuuri, your legs will be splayed out as you glide across the ice and Victor will be wearing skates.”

“I’m not sure I’m ready to climb onto Yuuri’s back with skates on my feet,” Victor admitted.

“Give me some time to think about it,” Yakov told them. “You can return to your regular training for now.”

Victor’s mind kept going back to the lift the whole day and he couldn’t help wondering how it could possibly be done.

Several days later, thanks to Yakov, they discovered that, yes, it was possible after all.

The coach invited acrobats from a circus and they demonstrated a new concept to the astonished skaters: the trick wasn’t in using your strength, it was about balance.

Still several weeks went by before they could get it right, before they knew just where they needed to go in order to not hurt each other and keep the position for as long as they needed.

But when they went out onto the ice and skated over its surface without falling over, when the other skaters in the rink applauded them and even Yakov joined in, they both knew all the hard work had been worth it.

“All you need now is a name for it,” one of the skaters pointed out, half-jokingly.

“Since Victor looks like he’s flying like an eagle,” Georgi said, “why not “The Eagle”?”

Victor and Yuuri exchanged a look.

“It sounds a bit…” Yuuri began uncertainly.

“…American,” Victor completed for him.

The other skaters chuckled at this.

Victor had given up on pointing out the differences between Canada and the US long ago so he didn’t bother then. He thought about other birds. It didn’t take long for the right one to come to him. “What about… Goose? As in: Canada goose?”

“I like it,” Yuuri said and nodded in approval.

And so The Goose was born.

 

Yuuri stood against the lockers in the change room while everyone got their things and left with laughter and loud goodbyes.

Victor took his time with his shoelaces, sensing that Yuuri wanted to speak to him alone.

Finally they all left and Victor straightened up to look Yuuri in the eye.

“It hurts again, doesn’t it?” Yuuri asked and walked over to Victor.

He lowered his eyes. “Yes.” His shins had burned all practice long, making it almost impossible to skate.

“Why didn’t you say something earlier?” Yuuri spoke quietly, but Victor could hear the pain in his voice anyway.

“Sorry.” _I’m sorry my body is letting us down like this. I thought it was just that routine, but I can see now it’s not._ He didn’t say the rest: he didn’t need to. He knew Yuuri understood it all without needing to hear it.

“Did you go see a doctor?” was Yuuri’s next question.

Victor fidgeted. “No.”

Yuuri sat down beside him and took both of Victor’s hands with his own. “Let’s go tomorrow.”

He bit his lip and nodded.

It was hard to sleep that night. He’d been afraid to visit a doctor, terrified of what he’d hear, terrified that the reason for the pain was something really awful. While he didn’t know for certain he could still hope, hope it was no big deal, hope it would just magically go away on its own.

But it didn’t.

He had to deal with it. He didn’t want to be the reason they didn’t win the next Worlds.

Morning came and they went to the nearest doctor together.

After the agony of a long wait, during which he clung on to Yuuri’s hand as tightly as ever, they got the verdict at last.

“You’ve been working too hard. It’s just a sprain. You need to rest,” the doctor said.

Victor took two days off, but when he returned to the ice the pain was worse than before.

Yuuri cut him off mid-practice and took him to another doctor right away. When that doctor’s advice didn’t prove helpful, he went to another and another.

They heard all kinds of explanations – from shin splints to stress fractures. Victor got all kinds of advice from rest, like the first doctor had said, to pushing through the pain. They tried medication and physiotherapy, but always the pain subsided when Victor stopped skating and took his skates off only to flare up once again when he returned to skating. It barely mattered how he skated anymore, the pain was always there.

Half the summer was gone and Victor could barely skate a minute of a program before the pain made it impossible to continue. They had to practice their programs in bits and pieces. How could they hope to be world champions if he could skate at the very most for one minute at a time?

“I’m sorry,” Victor said every time, all too aware that he looked like someone who’d given up, “I’m so sorry.”

Yuuri pulled off his own skates and then crouched down at Victor’s feet to remove his partner’s skates. “Don’t,” he said softly. He took Victor’s face with both hands. “I haven’t given up, yet. I’m going to keep fighting for you.”

“Thank you.”

“Forget all those other doctors. I found the best doctor this time and I won’t go home until he examines you properly,” Yuuri promised.

But this doctor didn’t need any convincing. He listened to Victor and then to Yuuri and finally said, “Let’s do a test for chronic exertional compartment syndrome.”

The words meant nothing to both of them, but they agreed anyway.

 

The results came two days later when Victor was staying at home, having finally persuaded Yuuri to go practice without him. Victor spent his time at home, wandering aimlessly from room to room, unable to focus on anything.

The phone rang and Victor went to answer it. “Hello?”

“Am I speaking to Victor Nikiforov?” He recognized the doctor’s voice. Something about his tone made his blood run cold.

He swallowed back his panic. “Yes.”

“We got the results from the tests we ran today,” the doctor began. “I’m afraid they were positive.”

Victor dropped into a chair. The meaning of the words wasn’t getting through to him. All he understood was that something terrible had happened, something he couldn’t fight.

“What… What should I do?” he asked, his voice breaking.

“I’m afraid you only have two options,” the doctor told him. “You can retire…”

Victor’s heart fell. He imagined Yuuri, beaming from joy with the silver medal around his neck, Yuuri talking about Olympics at all hours of the day, little Yuuri telling him about his wish…

“…or you can have surgery,” the doctor went on with barely a pause for breath. “I can’t guarantee that surgery will work. It might not. We’ve seen this before, but every case is different and if it goes well, the recovery time…”

The phone slid out of Victor’s hand and fell on the floor with a loud clutter. He dropped down to his knees. To be unable to skate ever again, to be unable to skate _with_ _Yuuri_ ever again…

His vision blurred and he dropped his head in his hands.

“Oh Yuuri, I’m so sorry!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song from The Umbrellas of Cherbourg is in French, but I decided to make my life easier and wrote the lyrics in English. Same for Ochi Chornyje (which is in Russian).
> 
> And now for the routines I described:  
> [Compulsory Dance (Argentine Tango)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ab07zC7UUT0). This was the skate responsible for damaging Tessa’s shins, but I can’t get over how beautiful it is. Also, she said that she was always in a lot of pain in the second half, but you see no proof of that whatsoever.  
> [Original Dance (Ochi Chornyje)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q3yWgpdn3Es)  
> [Free Dance (The Umbrellas of Cherbourg)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SRjqNbM9RHM)


	12. An Invisible Wall

When Yuuri returned home he found Victor curled up on the couch with Aunt Alla’s arms wrapped around him. The tears didn’t stop and as soon as he heard Yuuri come in, they flowed harder.

“Oh, Yuuri!” he exclaimed, burying his face in his knees.

Yuuri ran into the room in alarm. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“I’m not…” He raised his head and hiccupped. “I’m not alright…” He stared at Yuuri through a curtain of tears. “The doctor called today and said I need surgery. He said it might help and it might not and then I’ll need time to recover…” He gripped his head with both hands, unable to continue. Everything was just terrible.

“Oh, Victor!” Yuuri put his arms around his partner and wept with him, resting his forehead against Victor’s.

 

The next day Victor woke up with a feeling of relief. Gone was the uncertainty: he finally knew what was wrong with him. More than that, they finally had a plan and, if he was entirely honest with himself, there was also more hope that this time it would work. On top of that, they’d succeeded in securing the first possible date for the operation and that felt like a small victory.

He lay in bed, stared up at the ceiling and did his best to feel hopeful. He had to keep fighting, not just for himself, but also for Yuuri’s sake.

“Good morning!”

He turned his head and saw Yuuri enter his room.

“Sorry for barging in like this,” Yuuri said, “but I wanted to stay with you today.”

“You don’t need to,” Victor said and sat up. “You should go to practice. Don’t worry about me.”

Yuuri took Victor’s hands. “I can’t do that.”

Victor looked into Yuuri’s face. He’d apologized many times and now he was afraid that any more apologies would just irritate Yuuri. Unfortunately, this left him with nothing to say.

“I think we should call your parents and tell them,” Yuuri suggested after a while.

“You’re right,” Victor admitted. There was no arguing with that. They were bound to find out soon and he couldn’t lie to them, anyway.

Yuuri reached out and took Victor’s face with his hand. Victor closed his eyes and leaned into his touch.

For a long time neither of them said anything. There was too much they could say, but most of it didn’t need saying aloud.

The smell of breakfast filled the room and Victor heard his stomach rumble.

“Let’s go eat,” Yuuri whispered.

Victor nodded.

 

It was terrifying to go for a surgery where he knew they’d be making cuts in his legs. If only the injury had been in a different part of his body, maybe then he wouldn’t have been so frightened, but it occurred to him as he waited for his turn that there was the very real possibility that he’d never walk again.

Yuuri was there and Victor’s mother promised to come join them in a day. Yuuri clung on as if he was the one about to have an operation.

Victor’s long hair fell down on his lap and he kept tucking it away behind his ear. He hadn’t been in the right mood to do anything with it that morning, too frustrated with anything to have patience for something like his hair.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Yuuri promised, letting Victor go and leaving the room. He returned a few minutes later with a hair tie in his hand. He sat down, brushed Victor’s hair carefully with his fingers and braided it.

Victor closed his eyes.

Later he often thought of that moment, of how calm and safe he felt in Yuuri’s hands, of that comfortable silence between them that didn’t need any words and that strange feeling he had that everything would somehow be ok.

Victor turned his head to thank Yuuri and saw his partner raise Victor’s braid to his lips.

He opened his mouth, suddenly very certain that “thank you” were the wrong words to say and wondered what the right words were.

“Victor Nikiforov!” a nurse called.

Yuuri got up first and held out his hands to help Victor up. “I’ll wait for you,” he promised and Victor knew he wasn’t just talking about the surgery.

He swallowed down his mounting panic and tried to smile. “Thank you.”

 

After all the terror, after everything was done and he was put on a bed in one of the hospital rooms, after he and Yuuri wept together, after Victor sent Yuuri home, he found himself all alone once more, staring up at the ceiling and trying not to think about anything.

“Hello!” a cheery voice called out.

Victor stared at the newcomer, remembering too late about the second bed in his room and the pile of things next to it. He wouldn’t even get some time alone after his operation!

“I didn’t realize I already got a roommate,” the newcomer said. He moved with two crutches under his armpits, making steady progress to his bed where he sat down. “Christophe Giacometti,” he introduced himself, “but you can call me Chris.” He narrowed his eyes as he took Victor in. “You look familiar. Where have I seen you before?”

Victor wasn’t sure how to answer that. The last thing he wanted now was to meet a fan who would tell the whole world that he’d met a figure skater after an operation.

“Oh wow! You’re Victor Nikiforov!” the man exclaimed. “I’m a big fan! That compulsory dance you did last season was amazing!”

He barely suppressed a shudder at those words.

“Everyone in the skating world talks about you and Yuuri, you know,” Chris went on, oblivious to the effect his words were having on Victor. “We’re all waiting for you two to marry, of course, but… ah…” He stopped and gave Victor a piercing stare. “What are you here for?”

There was no avoiding it now. Victor motioned miserably at his shins. “Surgery on my shins. I have chronic exertional compartment syndrome.”

“Tell me about it!” Chris exclaimed and pulled his legs up onto his bed with both arms, raising one at a time. “Leg problems are like suicide for a skater.”

“You’re…” Victor studied him closer. “Are you a figure skater too?”

“Oh, yes!” Chris beamed. “Switzerland, men’s singles.” He glanced at his legs. “I only came here for a short holiday. Didn’t end up being short… or much of a holiday, to be honest.”

“Can I ask what happened?”

Chris gave him a warm look. “Yes, of course you can! I don’t make a big secret of it…” He hesitated. “Well, you know what I mean.”

Victor nodded, thinking of the ISU.

“The short answer to your question is: a nasty accident,” Chris began. “You’ll have to hold on to your stomach for this one… or would you rather not know?”

“Please tell me!” Victor found himself insisting.

 

It wasn’t Yuuri’s first practice alone, but it certainly felt like it. How could he practice without Victor? How could he possibly practice a routine for two skaters all by himself?

But worst of all was the knowledge that he had to go on practicing while Victor was stuck in bed, unable to even walk, never mind skating.

Victor’s mother came and took charge. The hospital meals were dismissed as no good and she talked about her plans to visit Victor every day to bring him food. That was his job too, Yuuri told himself, but part of him was terrified of his first official hospital visit. For some reason, he became convinced that he would see something terrible when he came.

The memory of the Victor’s bandaged legs still haunted him.

But most of all it was hard because he missed Victor. He missed Victor’s hugs and the feeling of safety when they were together. He missed having someone around who understood him really well. The usual morning commute was lonely in a subway crammed with strangers. There was no one to whisper to and exchange meaningful looks with.

Yuuri struggled through practice and went home, both impatient and dreading to see Victor.

Mrs. Nikiforov ordered a taxi for them and they sat next to each other in the back. She patted Yuuri’s shoulder affectionately.

Yuuri didn’t know what to say to her. He couldn’t help feeling like he’d failed her somehow, like he should’ve kept Victor safe from harm.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said.

“For what?” she asked.

“I… For not protecting him.”

“Oh, Yuuri.” She put an arm around him and pulled him close. “You don’t need to apologize,” she whispered and kissed his forehead. “You’ve looked after Viten’ka for me and I am eternally grateful for that.”

He gave a mute nod, but her words didn’t make him feel any better.

The taxi stopped and Yuuri paid the driver. They went inside and then up the stairs to where Yuuri knew Victor’s room was as he braced himself for something terrible

He let Victor’s mother enter the room before walking in himself and…

…seeing Victor sitting up in his bed with a smile on his face as he listened to what the man on the other bed was saying.

“Viten’ka!” Mrs. Nikiforov exclaimed, rushing over to her son and trapping him in a hug.

“Mother! Yuuri!” The smile faded from Victor’s face and Yuuri felt a pang of guilt at the sight. Instead of helping him recover, his presence only served as a reminder of Victor’s misery.

There was an unhealthy pallor in Victor’s cheeks. He looked like someone in constant pain. Yuuri felt more panic pile up in his stomach. He swallowed.

“Hello, Victor,” he said with a sad smile on his face. “How are you feeling?”

“I…” Victor’s eyes darted away, “…as well as I could feel after an operation like mine, I suppose…”

There was a long uncomfortable silence after those words.

The stranger in the next bed over cleared his throat and Yuuri felt anger flare up in his chest. Who on Earth was he? How dare he intrude on their only time together?

Yuuri kept his eyes fixed on Victor as he took Victor’s hand and pressed it to his face.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me, Victor?” the stranger asked, cutting into Yuuri’s thoughts.

“Yuuri, meet Chris. He’s also a skater,” Victor did the introductions in a tone of voice that suggested that he also wasn’t thrilled about the interruption. “This is Yuuri, my partner.”

Yuuri forced himself to look at the other man and say a quiet hello.

Chris reclined in his bed with an easy smile on his face. “So here is Yuuri at last.”

Yuuri hated him with every fibre of his being and wished they could trade places. It was his duty to share Victor’s troubles. He was Victor’s partner! What was this stranger who barely knew him doing here?

“I can’t believe I actually get to see you two together not on the ice,” Chris said with a happy sigh. “I’ve never met two people who have the chemistry you two have, you know?”

Yuuri remained silent.

“Victor’s been missing you all day long, but now you’re here and everything is right with the world, right Victor?” Chris went on.

A smile tugged at the corners of Yuuri’s mouth at those words. He couldn’t resist the urge to plant a kiss on Victor’s forehead.

“Chris has been keeping me company and cheering me up,” Victor told him.

“Thank you,” Yuuri said, warming to the other skater at last.

When Mrs. Nikiforov repeated the words after him Yuuri released with a pang that he’d somehow forgotten she was in the room with them.

Chris laughed. He joked and made conversation, breaking the awkward atmosphere and making it more welcoming.

But when Yuuri left the room and the door closed behind him he felt his spirits drop again. He was silent the whole way home. Mrs. Nikiforov took one look at him and kept quiet as well.

The next day he came again. He sat on the bed next to Victor and said nothing, tracing out circles on Victor’s blanket.

Chris was friendly and Yuuri warmed to him over time, but still he couldn’t help the feeling that the man was intruding.

Worse still was the realization that Yuuri didn’t know what to talk about with Victor. He wanted to tell Victor about his practice and the changes he’d made to their routines, but he couldn’t help feeling as if talking about figure skating at a time like this would be the same as rubbing it in.

He both hoped and feared that Victor would ask him something about it, but like him, Victor seemed to be avoiding the subject.

Every visit got more painful and awkward until the day came when Yuuri seriously considered not coming anymore. On that day Victor was discharged from the hospital.

Victor’s mother bustled around him then and Yuuri stood awkwardly to one side, feeling like now he was the one getting in the way.

They bought a wheelchair for Victor and his mother insisted on being the one to help him into and out of it. Only when they got to Aunt Alla’s apartment with no elevators was Yuuri given permission to help.

He carried Victor up four flights of stairs, holding him in his arms as Victor’s arms wrapped tightly around Yuuri’s neck and his head rested on Yuuri’s chest.

“I’m so sorry about this.”

“Don’t be,” Yuuri whispered. “I really don’t mind carrying you.” He wanted to add more, but thought instead of all the steps that he needed to climb and kept quiet.

Inside the apartment Victor’s mother and aunt took charge once more, leaving Yuuri to sit off to the side and watch.

Then came the most painful part: how was Yuuri supposed to come home after a full day of training when Victor was stuck at home, unable to leave?

Yuuri found himself spending more and more hours at practice and in training. He stayed long after the other skaters went home and always returned to exhausted to do anything else.

One evening he walked out of the rink and thought about just how much he didn’t want to go back. He found himself wandering the streets, as if he was looking for something he’d lost. He wanted everything back to the way it had been. He could see that Victor preferred the company of his new friend over Yuuri’s. Even now, when he was finally back home, he was texting the skater almost all day long.

 _Of course he doesn’t want to talk to me. Chris is funny and charming. They have so much in common. No one wants to talk to Yuuri Katsuki._ He stopped at a small bridge over one of the many canals in the city and leaned on the railing with his head lowered.

Below him the dark waters of the canal flowed slowly, reflecting the night sky.

Had they really grown so far apart?

A tear rolled down his cheek and dropped into the water below.

“Are you alright?” a voice said by his ear. Yuuri turned and saw someone frowning at him. “You look like the saddest person I’ve ever seen!”

Yuuri turned away without another word, hoping the stranger would catch the hint and leave him alone.

“You’re… Yuuri Katsuki, aren’t you?” the stranger asked. “Wow! Talk about luck!” For a moment there was a big smile on his face, but then it was replaced by a frown once more. “What happened? Where’s Victor?”

Yuuri hunched his shoulders. “At home,” he said softly.

“Don’t tell me you two fought! I didn’t realize Yuuri and Victor ever fought!” the stranger went on.

Yuuri buried his face in his arms.

“If he did something to upset you, I can punch him for you!” the stranger offered. “But not too hard. You need to skate together, after all.”

 _Who_ are _you and why are you talking to me like that?_ Yuuri wondered.

But still the stranger went on, “I’m sure it’s just a big misunderstanding. It’s like I keep saying – Yuuri and Victor are meant to be!”

Yuuri gave him an incredulous look. “Who _are_ you?” he finally asked.

“Oh! Sorry, I got a little carried away there. I’m Phichit Chulanont. You haven’t heard of me, but you will in a few years,” he promised.

“I will?”

“Yes! Once I make my senior debut and win gold in men’s figure skating, of course!” A big grin spread over his face.

 _Another one,_ Yuuri thought.

“It’s getting cold. Do you want to go grab something warm to drink?” Phichit offered. “My treat.”

Yuuri wanted to be alone. He didn’t want anyone to talk to, but when he took in Phichit’s face he couldn’t find it in his heart to say no.

Phichit let him choose the place and told Yuuri all about his time in St. Petersburg. Yuuri listened for having nothing better to do.

A waiter dropped by and they both ordered a cup of hot chocolate and something to eat.

Phichit continued to talk. He told Yuuri about his home town and his coach. He’d moved to Moscow to train under a coach with less experience and fame than Yakov, but at least they got along well and that was the important thing, right?

Yuuri listened to Phichit, astonished that someone could tell a total stranger all about their life.

“I can see by your face that you think I’m insane.” Phichit laughed. “To be honest, I was getting a little lonely. My rink is always packed with people, but I came here all on my own for a few days. I don’t know anyone in the city, so I’ve been figuring it out all on my own.”

Yuuri thought about his own loneliness. He pushed the food around on his plate as he mulled this over. It was terrifying to lose that one person who’d been such a constant in his life. All the competitions and moving from one city to another had only been possible with Victor’s support. How was he supposed to continue now?

He put his head in his hands. “I’m tired,” he said. “I need to go home and rest.”

“You look like you need lots of sleep,” Phichit agreed. “Do you want me to take you home?”

He opened his mouth to say no and considered the question more seriously. The metro full of strangers appeared in his mind and he realized that what he wanted least of all in that moment was to stand in an indifferent crowd all by himself as they pushed him from different sides.

“Yes, please,” he finally said and tried to smile.

Phichit waited for him to finish his food before getting up and taking him home. He entertained Yuuri on the way back with different funny stories until at last Yuuri couldn’t keep it in anymore and burst out laughing.

“Aha! So you _can_ laugh!” Phichit teased.

“Stop it!” Yuuri exclaimed, continuing to giggle.

“Never!” Phichit promised and told a different story that was even funnier.

But as soon as they reached Yuuri’s apartment building his face fell. “I need to go,” he said, thinking about his partner and feeling guilty for having fun while he suffered so much.

“Can I see you tomorrow?” Phichit asked. “I’m leaving in the evening, but I’m free before that.”

Yuuri nodded. “Let’s meet tomorrow.”

They exchanged phone numbers and goodbyes before going their separate ways.

Yuuri said nothing about his new friend and barely spoke to anyone when he got home.

 

Victor spent many lonely days in his room, barely talking to his mother and aunt. His only contact with the outside world was his texting back and forth with Chris.

He knew why Yuuri barely spoke to him. In a way it made things easier, because he himself didn’t know what to talk to Yuuri about. It was a way to protect each other, he told himself and then shook his head.

Yuuri was practicing for the two of them while Victor couldn’t even walk. The doctor had been very clear about Victor having to wait until the cuts healed properly.

That morning his mother and aunt were having their usual half-hearted argument in the kitchen over who would cook while he sat in the living room, giving the omelette a sad look.

 _I’m tired of all this,_ he told himself. _I want to walk again. I want to skate again. It must’ve all healed by now. I’m not waiting for my appointment next week._

He gripped one of the chairs and pulled himself up. Slowly, shakily, he made a few steps, still gripping his chair. His legs hurt, but he gritted his teeth and kept going, walking around the table and moving his hold from chair to chair. He made one circle around the table and stopped to contemplate his chair.

Victor bit his lip and made a second circle. Then he sat down and rested for several minutes before getting up and going again.

“Victor!” his mother exclaimed.

He released the chair and turned around in shock.

His mother and aunt stood in the doorway to the kitchen, staring at him in amazement. “You shouldn’t…” one of them began.

He lowered his eyes and realized he was standing without any support. “I can’t stay here forever,” he said. “I have to return to skating.”

“But you’re not…” his mother began.

“Yuuri is waiting for me,” he told her. “September is almost over.”

 

They thought they could miss just the first Grand Prix assignment, but things weren’t that easy. Victor, who started to attend physiotherapy sessions to help him recover the use of his legs, tried to push his recovery faster, but found that he could only go as fast as his body would let him. They had to drop out of the Grand Prix altogether, admitting the truth of Victor’s injury to the world at last.

Weeks went by as Yuuri continued to train alone and Victor kept up with his physiotherapy sessions until the day finally came when Victor could return to the ice.

They stood in silence side by side for the whole commute, still not knowing what to say to each other. Victor stared at his feet and then took out his phone as if someone had texted him.

Yuuri got his own.

Victor pretended to text and kept throwing sideways glances at Yuuri, but the other skater was too engrossed by whatever he was reading to look back at Victor.

They got to their stop and stepped out together, pocketing their phones almost at the same time.

Victor followed the old, familiar route to their rink, walking a few steps in front of Yuuri. Barely anything had changed in the few weeks of his absence. He could almost pretend he hadn’t been absent at all.

When he got to the change rooms everyone greeted him the same way as always. Still Yuuri was quiet and Victor didn’t know what to say to him either.

They went to the ice together, Victor walking behind Yuuri this time.

Yuuri stopped right at the boards and turned to meet Victor’s eye. He held out his hand and Victor took it.

It felt strange to go out together. He watched Yuuri give a little smile and realized with a pang of fear that he wasn’t sure if he could just jump back into skating.

His shins didn’t hurt and he risked turning around and going backwards. Beside him Yuuri did the same. Only then did Victor notice that they had an audience. All their rink mates gathered to watch Victor’s return to the ice.

Yuuri gave his hand a gentle squeeze and pulled himself closer. “Do you want to try a few twizzles?” he asked.

Victor nodded, but he fumbled around, all too conscious of everyone’s attention on him. He needed to remind his body how it was done, which wasn’t the same as jumping in, assuming he could still do it.

Four hours later his shins started to hurt and he had no choice but to go rest.

Yuuri led him to the boards. “I worked more on our routines,” he said, breaking a long silence. “Do you want to see them now?”

Victor nodded. “Please.”

But what Yuuri showed was a solo version of their three routines for that season. They’d have to make several changes, but – and here Victor rested his chin in his head – it wasn’t too hard to make the changes they needed. He could imagine what most of them would be like.

His heart tightened in his chest as he imagined Yuuri skating all those routines on his own, worrying whether Victor would agree to all the changes he’d made.

Yuuri finished and skated over to Victor, an expression of worry creasing his face. “What do you think?”

Victor opened his mouth to say something that had been on his mind, to apologize for his long absence, to promise to work hard and make up for it, but Yuuri spoke again.

“Of course, we’ll need to change it a bit to make it fit for two people instead of one, like the first spin in the routine, for example.”

Victor nodded. “And also…”

They fell into a detailed discussion of every element, as if everything else had been talked about.

After a while Victor said he wanted to practice more and joined Yuuri on the ice to practice bits of the routine.

Evening came and Victor, who’d sat in the stands for the last hour, too exhausted to do any more, got up to tell Yuuri it was time to go home.

They were silent the whole way back.

Victor realized with a painful pang that he didn’t know what to talk about with Yuuri.

When had they become such strangers to each other? How could they possibly return to the way they were before?

Days followed one after another. They trained as hard as they could, doing their best to be ready for the Nationals. Still they needed to stop from time to time to let Victor catch up.

Victor texted Chris as before, but talking to his new friend didn’t make up for the silence between him and Yuuri.

Evenings were especially hard with his mother and aunt trying to fill the silence with their incessant chatter. Victor wanted his mother to go home, but he couldn’t think of a way to tell her to go.

 _I’m not a child anymore,_ he thought miserably. _Why can’t you leave me alone?_

 

He stood before the bathroom mirror, wearing nothing and contemplating his reflection. He was very thin, as if he barely ate. His long hair fell in a mess over his shoulders. Victor’s eyes travelled down to his shins, to the spot where the surgeon had made a few cuts. There were little bulges on his legs that the doctor said will stay for a long time yet, maybe even for the rest of his life.

He sighed and stared at his hair again, raising a few strands with his fingers.

 

_His mother fiddled with his hair. “It’s gotten so long!” she said. “Aren’t you going to cut it?”_

_“I like it long,” Yuuri piped up._

“I’m sorry,” Victor whispered. He opened the top drawer and pulled out a pair of scissors.

He drew a deep breath and raised them to his hair. He wasn’t sure why he was doing it, but for some reason he was suddenly filled with a desperate need to get rid of his hair.

The scissors snipped, filling the bathroom with the only sound as loose strands of hair tumbled onto the floor and tears rolled down Victor’s cheeks.

He collected all the hair from the floor, gave it a long sad look and tossed it into the garbage can. Then he let out a long sigh and took a hot shower.

He locked himself in his room afterwards and wept into his pillow.

The next morning Yuuri was awake and already having breakfast when Victor shuffled into the living room.

“Good morning,” Victor mumbled.

“Good morning. You cut your hair!” Yuuri exclaimed.

“Yeah…” Victor looked away. “Sorry.”

“It looks nice,” Yuuri said.

Victor felt a faint blush rise to his cheeks. _He’s just being polite,_ Victor told himself. _He hates it._

He sat down at the table, mumbled a thank you and tried to eat. He could feel Yuuri’s eyes on him as he filled his plate, doing his best to avoid meeting his eyes.

“I…” Yuuri began and cleared his throat. “Never mind.”

Victor raised his eyes. He watched Yuuri avoid Victor’s gaze and pretend to be interested in stirring his tea. Once it became clear that Yuuri wasn’t planning to say it, whatever it was, Victor returned his attention to his breakfast.

Victor’s mother burst into the room. “Viten’ka! Good morning! You cut your hair! When did you do that?”

“Last night,” he answered, nearly dropping his tea.

“Why did you cut it? I thought you wanted to keep it long?” she pressed on.

He wished she would leave them alone. Why did she have to keep nagging him like this? “I got tired of it,” he said. “I thought I’d try having short hair for a while.”

“It looks much better on you than long hair!” his mother exclaimed. “Don’t you think so, Yuuri?”

“Y-yes,” Yuuri stammered out.

Again Victor found himself blushing. Why was he blushing? Why did it matter what Yuuri, or his mother, or anyone thought of his new haircut? He wanted to snap at her, but forced himself to think about skating instead.

But the unwanted attention followed him everywhere. People stared at him in the metro. His rink mates made jokes about his hair. But Yuuri watched him in silence with those dark, honest eyes of his and Victor wondered what it meant.

 _What are you waiting for? What are you expecting from me?_ Victor wondered.

Skating was still painful and after several run-throughs of all of their routines Victor found himself crying at the boards from the pain.

“Let’s end it here,” Yuuri suggested gently.

“No,” Victor said, raising his head as another tear rolled down his cheek. “Another hour. I can hang on for another hour!” He gave Yuuri a pleading look.

Yuuri nodded. “Alright.”

They practiced their twizzle sequences separately from their routine. Victor messed up the number of rotations and they went over the twizzles again and again until they both got them right.

Yuuri was very patient with him and said nothing about the number of times Victor messed up. Victor did his best to become the partner Yuuri deserved.

Still they barely talked outside of skating practice, but Victor pushed his worries about that aside for now.

Yuuri’s birthday came and this time his family dropped by for a visit, taking him away for a whole day. On Victor’s birthday his family did the same thing. They stuck around afterwards, which meant that New Year’s was celebrated with a cacophony of noise all around them as Yuuri and Victor did their best to look like they were having fun.

And then it was time for Nationals at last.

 

The flight back to Canada felt longer than ever, not only because they had no choice but to take a flight with a long layover, but also because they barely spoke to each other the whole way.

Victor sat at the window and stared out at the clouds floating by, remembering how Yuuri and he spent their first flight on a plane pointing out what the different shapes reminded them of. (Or, at least, they’d done that right after takeoff and as soon as they’d finished their meal, they’d both fallen asleep.)

Yuuri’s head dropped onto Victor’s shoulder and Victor turned to find that his partner had fallen asleep. Victor smiled and shifted closer to Yuuri. They still had each other. None of that other stuff mattered.

It was a great relief when they finally landed, got their luggage and walked out into the waiting area.

But this time it wasn’t just their parents waiting for them, but a big group of journalists from every TV station and newspaper imaginable. They surrounded the two skaters as soon as they stepped out.

“Your injury made you miss the Grand Prix. Do you think it will get in your way at Nationals?”

“Do you think it will get in your way at the Olympics?”

Victor stood and stared around him, blinking in confusion. What was he supposed to say to any of that?

“Please,” Yuuri cut in and stepped in front of Victor, as if trying to shield him with his body. “We’re both very tired after our long flight here. We’ll be more than happy to answer your questions tomorrow, but we need to go now.”

He took Victor’s hand and led him very firmly to where their parents were waiting for them.

Their parents gave them a brief welcome before ushering their sons away somewhere they could catch a taxi.

“Thank you,” Victor said to Yuuri once they got out into the open air.

“You don’t need to thank me,” Yuuri told him and still held on to Victor’s hand.

They said nothing else afterwards, except to insist that they go in the same taxi to their hotel, which sparked a little debate between the parents before they figured out how to split up between the two cars.

This time Victor’s head dropped onto Yuuri’s shoulder and he fell asleep as soon as the car drove out of the airport.

They took one room for both of them, but even that didn’t make them say a single word to each other – they were both too exhausted for that and wanted nothing more than to collapse onto their beds and sleep.

The next morning Yuuri and Victor came to an agreement without saying a word and snuck off to catch an early breakfast to avoid the embarrassment of having to eat with their parents. That done, they made their way to the rink.

Now Victor was ready for the press. “I worked really hard to prepare for the Nationals,” he told them. “I didn’t get to train as much as I would’ve liked for this season, but I did the best I could.” He gave them a big smile. “My partner Yuuri worked much harder than I did.”

Yuuri blushed and stammered something out. “Really, I…” he finally managed to say. “It was just training. It’s nothing like the pain you had to endure, Victor.”

Victor took Yuuri’s hand to lead him away to the change room. “Sorry,” he said to the press, “but we need to attend practice.”

They said nothing more as they changed and put their skates on. Victor finished first and walked over to Yuuri. He held out his hand.

Yuuri finished tying his shoelaces on his second skate and took the offered hand, rising carefully.

Was it Victor’s imagination or where people turning around to watch them when they exited onto the ice?

He felt Yuuri’s fingers tighten around his and turned to meet his partner’s eye.

“Together,” Yuuri said, giving their favourite of all the key words they’d come up with.

They went out onto the ice to practice their original dance as if it was just another practice session at home.

As they skated Victor couldn’t help thinking that maybe missing the Grand Prix wasn’t so bad: this way his return from his injury was at home, at Nationals where he and Yuuri felt more confident competing.

All in all, it was a good practice session: they only made little mistakes and Yakov didn’t raise his voice.

Victor smiled and enjoyed the sensation of skating without any pain.

They went to the boards at the end of their allotted practice time and listened to Yakov’s instructions for the competition the next day.

“Tomorrow,” Yakov said, “I want you two to skate like you do in practice. Don’t worry about anything, got it?”

They nodded obediently as always.

Just another practice, that was all this was. Still he and Yuuri were silent as they left the ice.

When they entered the change room they stumbled into a loud argument. Most of the skaters were calm and silent, avoiding making eye contact with each other. One pair, however, was taking out their frustrations on each other.

“What the hell was that? You nearly dropped me, you idiot!” one of them screamed.

“Well, maybe if you’d actually climbed into the lift properly without trying to elbow me in the face, it would’ve been easier for me to hold you!” the other one snapped.

They cursed at each other as the rest of the skaters in the change room pretended that nothing was happening.

Victor changed quickly, feeling as if someone had slapped him, or as if the swearwords were all flung at him. He rose hastily to his feet and watched Yuuri lower his head in a way that he knew meant he was about to start crying.

“Let’s go,” Victor said, softly, leaning close. “I need some fresh air. Do you want to come with me for a walk?”

Yuuri raised his head. “Yeah.”

They pulled their jackets on and escaped outside, slipping down empty corridors and congratulating themselves on successfully avoiding the press.

It was a cold day. The sky was a clear blue and the sun shone down on them, but offered no warmth. Without thinking and purely out of habit, Victor took his gloves off and pulled them on over Yuuri’s.

“Are you cold now?” he asked, holding Yuuri’s hands between his.

“No. What about you?” Yuuri whispered.

“I’ll be fine,” Victor assured him, looking into Yuuri’s eyes. “How are you feeling? Are you sleepy?”

Yuuri shook his head. “No, I’m ok! I really am!”

Victor’s face broke into a smile. “I’m glad.”

They walked along a river, arm in arm. An invisible wall crumbled between them and Victor talked about his time at the hospital, about Chris and his dirty jokes.

Yuuri listened until Victor ran out of words. “I made a new friend too,” he confessed. “His name is Phichit. I met him out on a bridge in St. Petersburg. He writes to me from time to time. He’s from Thailand, but he’s training in Moscow now.”

“I hope I get to meet him sometime!”

“I’ll introduce you when I get the chance,” Yuuri promised.

Victor pulled him into a tight hug. “I missed you,” he whispered into Yuuri’s ear. “I really, really missed you.”

“Me too,” Yuuri whispered back, but Victor wasn’t listening.

“Maybe it’s strange,” he went on, “I mean – you were there the whole time, but still I missed you.”

“I understand what you mean,” Yuuri told him. “I feel the same.”

Victor pulled back and looked into Yuuri’s face. Of course Yuuri understood him! He always did and, so, his words came as no surprise.

They stared at each other in silence for several seconds. Yuuri reached up and fiddled with Victor’s hair.

“I really like this haircut,” he whispered. “It really suits you.” His cheeks were red, but it must’ve been from the cold.

Victor was suddenly aware of a strong need to touch those cheeks and found himself pressing his lips against them before he had time to properly think about it.

Yuuri giggled and threw his arms around Victor’s neck.

Finally Victor released him and stepped back, holding one of Yuuri’s hands in his own. “Let’s spend the day together,” he offered. “Forget our parents for a while. If we’re careful, they’ll never find us.”

It was as if they were ten years old again and playing a game.

They returned to their hotel room late in the evening, laughing and half-dancing in the hall. Victor opened the door and held it open with a bow. Yuuri stepped into the room, unable to stop laughing. Victor closed the door behind them and they both tumbled onto their beds, trying to stifle their laughter in their pillows.

 

The next morning they went out on the ice together to deliver a beautiful compulsory dance. It wasn’t flawless and Yuuri whispered little reminders into Victor’s ear from time to time, but when Victor sat in the kiss and cry at the end and looked at their scores the thought that they could still do better helped him keep smiling.

Yuuri put an arm around him and rubbed his shoulder. “We’ll do even better at the Four Continents,” he promised.

They still had their new lift, Victor told himself. They had to show it to everyone for the first time.

But the next time they went out on the ice the fans found something else to get excited about.

 

Victor was in a glittery dress, beaming from joy. How could he not, when he was back on the ice again? Yuuri was in a white shirt and a pair of black pants. He was giving Victor surprised looks, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.  

Victor batted his eyelashes and skated around Yuuri. They danced the Charleston this time, going across the ice together to stop in front of the judges and give them an energetic hello.

It felt easier than ever to skate together that time. Their usual sense of unity was back, helping them more than all their training ever could. He knew he made a mistake here and there, but he kept going, smiling as if nothing had happened, as if he’d meant that all along. The routine was light and bubbly, like a bottle of champagne.

The music spurred him on and he was positively glowing on the ice. Yuuri put an arm around him and kissed him on the cheek. Victor threw his head back and gave a happy laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the [Charleston (Original Dance)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rJ7pWkemN-M) they have!


	13. Ekaterina and Sergei

“Did you see the kiss? Did you see the kiss? How can they say they’re not a couple now, huh? How can they say that?”

“But he whispered something back! What was it?”

Fans around the world played the recording over and over again, trying to read Victor’s lips. Was it a promise of some kind? A confession? A joke? A pickup line? What?

 

“I owe you a kiss,” Victor whispered as they kept going. He felt his heart jump in his chest.

“I owed you one first!” Yuuri insisted.

The routine ended and Victor pretended he was posing for pictures as Yuuri got down and played the part of an enthusiastic photographer.

They were rewarded with laughter and loud cheers from the audience. Both skaters bowed theatrically and made for the kiss and cry, continuing their conversation from earlier in a whisper.

“That was different!” Victor protested. “That kiss didn’t count!”

“Why not” Yuuri asked.

“Because… Because…” Victor flailed. “Because it wasn’t out on the ice!”

Yuuri laughed as he stepped off the ice and put his skate guards on. “So kisses only count when they’re on the ice?” he asked.

Victor was suddenly very aware of how red his face was. “Yes.”

Yuuri giggled. “So if I kiss you right now, it won’t count?”

Victor nearly fell over at the sound of that question and Yuuri had to catch him to help him stay on his feet. Only then did Victor notice that Yuuri’s face was as red as his own.

They got into the kiss and cry together. Yakov was saying something, but Victor was too busy throwing looks at Yuuri to listen properly. They both knew they’d made a bunch of little mistakes and didn’t have very high hopes for the marks.

Victor went on squeezing Yuuri’s hand in both of his. Yuuri kept his head lowered as if he didn’t dare look at Victor.

They barely registered what their marks were and if someone had asked them right after they left the kiss and cry what they were, they would’ve been completely unable to give an answer.

Since they were the last pair out on the ice, they changed as quickly as they could and weaved through the crowd, looking for their parents, who, much to their surprise, asked if they’d rather spend the evening on their own.

“We thought…” Yuuri began.

Victor made a sad face. “Our parents don’t want to spend time with us?”

The parents, caught off guard by this response insisted as strongly as they could that of course they wanted to spend time with their children, they only thought… Well, they weren’t sure _what_ they thought, so they took the skaters to a fancy restaurant to make up for their little slip.

 

Night came and found Yuuri and Victor lying on their beds, feeling wide awake.

“I think…” Victor began. “I think our parents are convinced we’re dating.”

Yuuri was silent.

Victor sat up and turned to look at Yuuri, but the skater was facing the other way, making it impossible to see what the expression on his face was.

“It’s not just them,” Victor went on, wondering what Yuuri’s silence meant. “It’s pretty much everyone. Chris keeps asking me when we’re getting married and all those reporters won’t stop asking the same questions. Well, you know that, but…”

Still Yuuri was saying nothing. Feeling alarmed by this and worrying he’d offended his partner, Victor stopped talking.

Victor had turned 20 recently. Many people at his age like to daydream about their idea of the future. Some people imagine buying a house, getting married and having kids. Others think about their dream job. Victor never thought about any of that. He wasn’t the kind to sit down and think, “At 25 I’m going to be married; at 30 I’m going to retire from figure skating.” He had only one goal in mind: winning gold with Yuuri at the 2010 Olympics. He never thought beyond that. The only real plans he had were made season by season. And so it was that the idea of marrying someone and living with them for his whole life never really entered his mind.

Victor dropped onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. It was too quiet. The silence made him shift awkwardly, as it reminded him of the way they barely spoke to each other after his operation.

“Yuuri?” he whispered.

“Yes?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Me neither,” Yuuri admitted.

“Do you think… Maybe if… if we push our beds together and hold hands we could sleep?” Victor bit his lip. Where had that idea come from?

Yuuri got up and Victor sat up to watch him with a terrified look on his face. To his surprise, Yuuri pushed his bed over to Victor’s. Then he lay down on it, turning onto his side to face Victor. “How is that?” he whispered.

“Much better.” Victor reached out and took Yuuri’s hands.

They stared into each other’s eyes in the semi-darkness of the room. Their only light came from the streetlamps outside. The window was behind Yuuri, making shadows fall over his face.

Victor tried to tell by the curve of his mouth if he was smiling. Unable to help himself, he traced out the shape of Yuuri’s lips with his finger.

“Victor…” Yuuri whispered.

It was warm under his blanket, warm and safe in a world that had no one but him and Yuuri in it.

Yuuri’s fingers traced out the line of Victor’s nose, his eyebrows and the curve of his lips.

Victor waited for Yuuri to say something, but Yuuri remained silent. His fingers slipped into Victor’s hair and Victor closed his eyes.

“Sleep…” Yuuri whispered.

Victor felt himself sinking slowly. “Yeah…” he whispered back.

The night threw its dark blanket over both of them. It folded its arms around the two skaters like a mother protecting her children and sent them happy dreams.

 

Victor woke up, feeling something digging into his knee. It wasn’t painful, just uncomfortable. He then became aware of something in his hair and a gentle breath on his face.

He opened his eyes and took in the serene sight of Yuuri’s sleeping face on the pillow before him.

Victor’s hands slid over the bed and out to Yuuri, pulling him close.

Yuuri slept on.

Absently, not realizing what exactly he was doing, Victor traced circles on Yuuri’s back with his finger.

Yuuri let out a soft sigh and opened his eyes. A smile spread slowly over his face. “Good morning,” he whispered.

“Good morning.”

The room was full of sunlight. Victor released Yuuri and watched him sit up. He watched the way the morning light fell on him as if the sight was a work of art.

Yuuri turned to look at the window and then rose to his feet. He stretched as he crossed the room.

“Looks like another nice day,” Yuuri said, peering out. He walked back to his bed. “Do you want to use the bathroom first?”

 

The change room was tense again. Even at a practice session tensions ran high. Skating pairs sat in different corners of the change room and talked to each other as if they were getting ready to wage war against the rest of the world.

Yuuri came in, hand in hand with Victor. Their cheeks were rosy from the cold and Yuuri had Victor’s gloves over his own again. They’d spent the whole way talking about a trip to Moscow to visit Phichit.

Victor accepted his gloves back and helped Yuuri out of his coat. Then Yuuri helped Victor out of his. They changed and put their skates on, not making a single pause in their conversation.

They’d already talked about trains and moved on to tourist attractions now.

Finally their group was called to practice, but even as they walked to the ice, they continued to discuss details of the trip.

“ _Excuse me_ ,” one of the skaters said, pushing Yuuri out of his way. “I know it’s all sunshine and roses for you two, but some of us are trying to win a competition here.”

Victor opened his mouth, but Yuuri pulled him away before he could say anything. They let all the other skaters exit onto the ice first.

“I think right after Worlds is a good time to go,” Yuuri said, as if nothing had happened.

Victor followed the rude skater’s progress around the rink with his eyes. “Yeah,” he agreed.

“Let’s go?” Yuuri offered.

They went over their routine, avoiding the other skaters without thinking and skating as if they were alone out on the ice.

There was a small twinge in Victor’s shins, but he ignored it and kept going. The pain refused to go away and he already knew he’d be attending more physiotherapy sessions when he returned to St. Petersburg. To him it meant one thing – more time away from Yuuri.

“Is it hurting again?” Yuuri whispered into his ear.

“Just a little,” Victor admitted.

“I wish I could help you somehow,” Yuuri said, pulling Victor after him. “I wish I knew some way to take all that pain away.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Victor told him. “Just keep skating with me. It’s all I want, honest.”

Yuuri gave him a sad smile.

Yakov called them over and they went to their coach to listen to what he had to say.

 

They were the last pair out on the ice. Two months earlier they’d had a long argument over their costumes for the free skate and ended up settling for something simple and all in black. At least they finally got their chance to show off their new lift!

“Time,” Yuuri whispered partway into the skate and Victor realized that in his excitement he was rushing.

He slowed down to the music’s tempo, forcing himself to think about what he was skating now and which element came next, and not about elements further along in the skate.

When he finally got to climb onto Yuuri’s back and raised his arms the cheers from the audience were almost deafening.

Still, he had to focus, climb down and finish the skate and only afterwards did he allow himself to be excited.

“Yuuri!” he did a little jump and threw his arms around his partner. “Yuuri!”

He laughed, pulling Victor close. “You did it!”

“No, _we_ did it!” Then, remembering himself, Victor took Yuuri’s hand and they both turned to bow to the audience.

They won first place with a big lead, but they didn’t have time to celebrate. They needed to train hard for the next competitions that would follow.

 

“It hurts again, doesn’t it?” Yuuri asked after another long day of practice.

Victor didn’t look up from his feet. “Yes,” he admitted softly.

Yuuri sat down on the floor, still in his skates and felt Victor’s right shin carefully with both hands.

Victor watched Yuuri’s hands do what the physiotherapist’s hands always did.

“I talked to Tatiyana Petrovna,” Yuuri admitted in a soft whisper, “and she taught me what to do next time you’re in pain. I’m not a professional, of course, and you’ll still need to see her when you get the chance, but at least this can help you a little bit.”

Tatiyana Petrovna was Victor’s physiotherapist. She was a very intimidating woman in her late forties. Victor had seen the terrified look on Yuuri’s face when they’d first met and was shocked to hear now that Yuuri would approach her alone. When had he found the time to do that?

“You don’t have to…” Victor began.

“I want to,” Yuuri insisted. “It’s _my_ dream to compete in the Olympics, after all.”

“What? I want to make it too!” Victor protested. “It’s not just your dream, but mine as well!”

Yuuri stared at him in silence for several seconds. “I thought you were just doing all this for me.”

“I want to skate with you for the rest of my life,” Victor said. “At every single competition we can qualify for.”

Yuuri stared down at his fingers. “Me too.”

Victor remembered their commute that morning, how Yuuri had held on to him in a train packed with people and how a couple sat in front of them and, not caring what all the witnesses would say, exchanged a brief kiss every few minutes. He remembered being all too aware of how tightly Yuuri clung on to him and his own sudden desperate need for a kiss.

“Can I kiss you?” Victor asked, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Yuuri raised his eyes and met Victor’s. He opened his mouth to say something, but, feeling embarrassed of his sudden outburst, Victor spoke again.

“I… I was just thinking: we haven’t done more than a kiss on the cheek. What if… what if we want to have a passionate kiss? Uh… mouth to mouth?” He did his best to hide his gaze. “Sorry, it was a stupid idea.”

“Do you really want to?” Yuuri whispered.

Victor nodded, feeling his face turn deep red. His heart beat fast in his chest. He was too terrified to think properly and was waiting for Yuuri’s reaction as if the skater was about to hit him.

Yuuri got up. He took Victor’s face with both hands and pressed his lips against Victor’s. They shifted closer to each other and opened their mouths. For a moment Victor thought Yuuri would climb onto his knees, but Yuuri remained on his own feet. Victor’s eyelids dropped and he placed his hands over Yuuri’s shoulder blades. He surrendered completely to the kiss, feeling as if he was drifting off somewhere else.

After who knew how long of something resembling bliss, Yuuri pulled free. “Is that alright?” he asked.

Victor opened his eyes and took in how red Yuuri’s face was. “Yes…” he breathed out.

Yuuri lowered himself back onto the floor and took Victor’s left foot. He rubbed Victor’s shin as if there had been no interruption.

For a while neither of them said anything.

Kissing felt really nice, Victor decided, in his mind. More than nice. He held his fingers to his lips as he stared at the top of Yuuri’s head.

“How are you feeling?” Yuuri asked after a while.

“Good,” Victor said, but the word was an understatement. He felt amazing.

“Good,” Yuuri echoed and nodded his head. He rose to his feet and left to get changed.

They went home together, but something was different this time. Victor couldn’t figure out what it was, all he was aware of the whole time was how kissable Yuuri had become. His arm wrapped around Victor’s as they stood in the train, waiting for it to take them to their stop. Yuuri’s face was very close. Victor found his eyes drawn to his partner’s mouth.

_If I kiss him now, will he get upset with me? He’ll ask what I’m doing and I’ll say…_

He wasn’t sure what he’d say. Why was his heart beating as if he’d just finished skating a very fast routine? Why did he have this sudden need to kiss Yuuri?

Victor turned away and told himself to think about something else.

Four Continents was coming up and they would…

Yuuri’s mouth had felt warm and…

No, no, he told himself. Four Continents! Focus! It was Worlds after that where they’d compete against Georgi and Anya again.

He closed his eyes and replayed the memory of Yuuri’s kiss.

“Victor?” Yuuri’s voice cut in.

His eyes snapped open. “Hmm? What?”

“It’s our stop,” Yuuri said.

He nodded and headed for the doors, definitely not thinking about kisses.

“What’s wrong?” Yuuri asked, walking at Victor’s side. “Did you fall asleep while standing up?”

Victor laughed. “And had a nice dream!” he joked.

“Oh? What about?” He couldn’t tell if Yuuri had fallen for it, or was just playing along.

For a moment he panicked. What could he say to that? The truth? That he was still stunned by the kiss? No, no, it was much safer to lie. “Winning the Olympic gold,” he invented and congratulated himself for this clever deception.

“That’s a very good dream,” Yuuri agreed with a nod. “I keep having nightmares that I slept in and missed our time to go out on the ice and we got disqualified.”

Victor chuckled and pulled Yuuri close. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I’ll wake you up on time better than any alarm clock.”

“Thank you,” Yuuri whispered, his oh-so-kissable lips forming the words.

That night Victor dreamt about their kiss and the feel of Yuuri’s lips.

 

Despite the little time they had on the ice and the small mistakes they’d made, Victor and Yuuri won the Four Continents and arrived at Worlds feeling confident of winning a medal.

As had already become the norm, they were greeted by the press as soon as they arrived at the airport. Victor wondered absently if a day would come when he’d know every single one of them, or if there were too many journalists out in the world for that to ever happen.

“We’re all hoping you’ll make it to the Olympics next year,” one of them said. “Do you have a program in mind yet?”

Victor and Yuuri exchanged a look. “We were thinking about something classical, but we haven’t settled on the music yet,” Victor admitted.

Yuuri nodded in agreement.

“Your chemistry on the ice is incredible. Have you been going out for long?” the journalist went on.

Why was Victor thinking of their kiss now? Why? “We’re not dating,” he said, doing his best to keep his voice cool and professional.

“As if we’ll believe that!” someone in the crowd exclaimed.

“The fans are all convinced that the two of you are secretly married,” one of the journalists told them.

Yuuri put a hand on Victor’s shoulder and stepped forward. “We are very fond of each other, definitely, but we respect –”

“Aha! So you admit it!” the journalist exclaimed happily, jumping onto Yuuri’s words with a mad glee.

Victor opened his mouth to say something rude and caught Yuuri’s eye. He saw the skater give a little shake of his head and then a little nod.

He understood what it meant. _Don’t bother arguing, just go along with it._

“Yeah,” he said with a laugh. “As soon as Yuuri turned legal age we got married.”

Around him people scribbled his words down.

Was he doing the right thing? Was he only making things worse? He looked at Yuuri again.

Yuuri held out his arm, Victor took it and they walked off before the press could come up with more insane questions.

“Sorry, Yuuri,” Victor whispered once they were out of earshot.

“You don’t need to apologize. It’s not your fault.” There was a lot of pain in his voice as he said those words. It made Victor feel as if someone had hit him.

“I know, but it kind of feels like it is.”

“If it’s your fault, then it’s my fault too,” Yuuri told him.

Victor tried to protest against this, but Yuuri changed the subject, clinging tighter to him.

 

A coach could only do so much for his pupils. He could give them advice (and hope with all his might that the advice was good). He could teach them about skating elements, or choreograph a program for someone. But he couldn’t skate on the ice for them, or live their life for them. He couldn’t give them his health, or his energy.

Yakov Feltsman’s first claim to fame was as coach of Ekaterina Gordeeva and Sergei Grinkov. Like Yuuri and Victor, they were a talented pair, very hardworking and very, very in love with each other. Their skating had a quality that couldn’t be captured by any camera (certainly not a camera at the time) and had to be seen in person. When they moved over the ice the sound their skates made was soft, like a whisper. It added a kind of magic to their routine.

As Yakov watched Yuuri and Victor go out to perform their free skate, the memories washed over him.

 

_Sergei held Ekaterina delicately in his hands as he lifted her over his head. She smiled at him and he nodded back, as if a question had been asked._

_They’d been a little nervous before their first Olympics, but there wasn’t so much as a hint of it in their skating now. The large audience didn’t matter, neither did its loud cheers that could drown out the music. The two skaters were lost in a universe all of their own._

Yakov forced himself into the here and now, but his thoughts slipped away again. Sergei and Ekaterina had won nearly every competition they ever entered and even when Sergei turned 28 very few people said a word about retirement to him. Everyone assumed the pair would go on winning every competition for at least another four years.

Pain and guilt twisted Yakov’s gut. A lump rose to his throat.

He knew it wasn’t his fault, but if only he’d done something! If only he’d known! If only…

Victor rested his knee on Yuuri’s back and the audience gave another loud cheer as he let Yuuri’s hand go and raised his arms. Everyone adored the Goose.

Yakov had brought the magazine with the photo as a challenge, as a way to see how far he could push them. He hadn’t thought at the time that they’d actually figure out how to do it.

He wondered if it was a good idea to tell them that, or that he only threw challenges like that at his most promising students. With Georgi and Anya he used their strengths to come up with a program for them, but Yuuri and Victor pushed the boundaries of what could be done. They were only limited by the rules and the laws of physics and even then, Yakov suspected that they could bend the laws of physics if they wanted to.

Victor and Yuuri finished their free skate and threw their arms around each other.

It wasn’t Yakov’s business what his skaters got up to in their free time, of course, but would they be able to keep going if they didn’t realize their feelings for each other soon?

 

_“I have to take a brief retirement,” Ekaterina announced to her coach. Retirement was the wrong word, in fact – the two skaters had spent the previous year on an ice dancing tour and didn’t attend a single competition._

_“What’s wrong?” Yakov asked and cursed himself. Her glowing face was proof that the question was the wrong one to ask._

_“Seryozha and I are going to have a baby,” she announced and put a hand over her stomach._

_Yakov smiled and congratulated her. “We need to think about the next generation of figure skating, right?”_

_She laughed._

_Sergei soon joined them. He put an arm around his wife and asked her gently if she wanted to skate today, or if she’d rather rest._

_“I don’t think there’s any harm in it,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “Do you?”_

_His answer was to give her a kiss._

Yakov felt tears gather in his eyes and blinked them back as best as he could as he walked over to the kiss and cry to meet his pupils. He sat to one side and watched them bounce a little in their spots from all the excitement. They kept their arms around each other in a way that suggested that they did it without thinking.

_You need to realize it,_ Yakov willed them, _before it turns into a ridiculous drama that interferes with your skating._

Again he thought of Sergei and Ekaterina. They’d also skated together from a young age, but it didn’t take them long to figure it out.

He watched Yuuri and Victor as if from a distance.

The coach knew that as far as the two skaters were concerned, everyone else was somewhere far away.

When all the pairs finished skating and the results were announced Yuuri and Victor congratulated each other on making it to third place. Third place after Victor’s injury and their limited time on the ice!

Yakov thought back to Victor’s first steps when he returned to the ice. He looked like someone taking their first ever skating lesson and clung to Yuuri as if he was afraid to fall. Less than an hour ago Victor had been fearless on the ice.

The medalists went out on the ice to claim their places on the podium. The medalists moved with a formal air, which in Georgi’s air had a touch of drama to it.

Yuuri twirled Victor right before the podium and then held his hand as Victor stepped up.

_If I didn’t know better,_ Yakov thought, _I’d think you were trying to please the audience with your ridiculous stunts._

Victor and Yuuri put their arms around each other and smiled for the cameras, raising their medals to show them off.

Once the media had its fill of taking photos, they returned their attention to each other. This time Victor hopped off first and held Yuuri’s hand to help him down.

Someone screamed their names from the boards and the skaters went to hand out their autographs, pose for photos and admire big fan-made posters.

“Kiss!” someone shouted and Yakov watched his pupils blush like a pair of awkward teenagers.

“Kiss for a photo, please!” more voices shouted.

Victor put an arm around Yuuri’s waist and pressed his lips against Yuuri’s cheek.

The fans went wild with excitement.

_Honestly! You’d think they were movie stars!_ Yakov grumbled inwardly.

 

That evening the medalists had a celebratory dinner with their coaches. Yakov watched Georgi and Anya sit side by side and take pictures together, playing the enamoured couple for the camera. He watched the pair from France sit apart from each other and talk pointedly to everyone around them. And then his attention turned inevitably to Yuuri and Victor.

“Let me refill your glass,” Yuuri offered, pouring more water for Victor.

“Thank you! Do you want to order some dessert afterwards? They have that cake you like,” Victor told him, reaching for the desserts menu.

 

_“Seryozhen’ka, there’s a hole in your sleeve! Give me your shirt after practice and I’ll patch it up for you.”_

Yakov swallowed. Why did his thoughts keep returning to the two of them? Fourteen years had passed since then. Fourteen long years full of all kinds of worries and hopes, of failures and successes.

“What are you worrying about?” Lilia whispered.

Yakov gave her an uneasy look. Of course he could never hope to hide anything from his wife. “I keep thinking…” he began and paused, but it was too late to take his words back now. “…about Sergei and Katya.”

She threw a piercing look at him and then at Yuuri and Victor who were listening patiently to Georgi’s boring story. “Hmmm.”

He watched her in silence for some time, but she didn’t add anything more to that.

Maybe it was a good idea to go to sleep early, Yakov thought. Maybe after a good night’s sleep his head would feel clearer and the memories would leave him alone.

Victor’s voice carried across the table, dropping on Yakov without warning. “Oh, Yuuri and I are going to Moscow in two days.”

Yakov stiffened. What? Moscow? Why hadn’t they told him anything about this?

“Really?” Georgi asked. “I had no idea. Did you know about this, Yakov?”

As one all the people at the table turned to see how Yakov would take this sudden announcement.

Yakov, in no mood to tell his pupils off for running off without warning said, “Yes, of course. We discussed it before coming here.”

The two skaters stared at him in amazement.

“Where are you staying?” Georgi asked, as oblivious as ever about things happening around him.

“With my friend Phichit,” Yuuri answered. “He invited us. He’s a singles skater from Thailand. He’s still in Juniors, though.”

Everyone got curious about this Phichit. How old was he? What kind of routines did he skate?

Yakov watched Victor, but the skater smiled and listened as always. He played absent-mindedly with Yuuri’s hair and got a few happy glances in response.

_Not jealous? Good._

Then Yakov’s eye fell on Georgi. The skater, deciding she’d spent long enough listening to others, tried to impress Anya with something on his phone, almost sticking it in front of her face. _Oh well._

 

Moscow was full of crowds of people all in a rush to be somewhere else. Victor wondered where they were all headed in such a hurry.

He and Yuuri had packed the bare essentials for a two day trip, reminding each other what to take and debating what to leave behind. Phichit had met them all at the Leningradsky Railway Terminal and they took the metro to his apartment to drop their things off before they went out to explore the city.

Their two day vacation was like none of their other trips. They exchanged jokes and ate out. They took dozens of photos everywhere they went. They relaxed and did their best to not think about figure skating for a while. They’d come to an unspoken agreement to relax and have fun before the preparation for the Olympic season began.

Victor woke up on the morning of their second (and last) day and stared at Yuuri’s sleeping face. Phichit’s apartment was very small and he’d borrowed two old-fashioned fold-out beds for his guests, which they set up side by side the night before.

Knowing he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again, Victor got up as carefully as he could and went to brush his teeth and get dressed.

He returned to the living room to find Yuuri still asleep. Phichit’s door was still closed, which Victor took to mean that their host wasn’t awake yet either.

Hunger twisted his stomach and he made for the kitchen, wondering if there was anything in the fridge to eat. Before long the smell of a delicious breakfast filled the apartment.

“What…” Yuuri muttered, making Victor turn away from the stove.

“Good morning!”

“Good morning, Victor!” Yuuri grinned through the sleep in his eyes. He was still in his pajamas and Victor wondered if he’d accidentally woken his partner up. “I’ll go change and help you,” he promised.

 

Phichit woke up from the sound of giggling. For a moment, he was convinced that someone had broken into his apartment and then he remembered about his guests. Cursing himself, he pulled his clothes on as quickly as he could and rushed out to the kitchen.

They’d already made breakfast without him!

He stared in amazement at the table set for three people and then his two guests, frozen with their arms around each other.

They blushed as if caught doing something illegal.

Phichit winked at them as his conscience whispered to him that he was supposed to be the one making breakfast and not his guests.

“Good morning! Thanks for making breakfast!”

“Uh… I… Yeah…” Yuuri stammered out.

Victor looked like the happiest man on the planet and Phichit did his best to suppress his jealousy at the fact. “Good morning!”

 

As athletes training abroad, in a group of skaters from a different country, Yuuri and Victor didn’t get to see for themselves the energy with which Canadian athletes prepared for Olympics at home, but they did get to see other skaters get excited by the upcoming Olympics. They had no way of knowing that back home people were coming up with a medal forecast, estimating how many gold, silver and bronze medals the country would get. All they knew was that they themselves wanted that Olympic gold. And not just them – Yakov wanted them to get that gold.

They took up their busy training schedule as much as Victor’s shins allowed them and worked hard to make three great skate programs.

The day after they returned from their trip Yakov made them listen to something he’d picked out for them with the words “I have music for your free skate.”

Victor listened, closing his eyes and trying to imagine a skate to what he was hearing. It was a complicated melody with lots of subtle rises, which gave them a lot to work with.

_I like it,_ he thought. _I really like it._ He opened his eyes and looked at Yuuri. _I hope you like it too._

Yuuri met his eye. “I like it!” he exclaimed. “Let’s use it.”

Yakov gave them a look of approval. “Good. Have you settled on your original and compulsory music yet?”

The theme for this season was folk dance, with the implication that most skaters would pick music from their own countries. The two skaters had already spent what felt like most of February going through a lot of Canadian music, but couldn’t find a single piece to suit their tastes.

Then Yuuri and Victor borrowed CDs from Yakov’s big collection, trying to find something else. They went through Spanish music this time, hoping to find something they could work with. This time they had better luck.

Victor opened the case and took a CD out. Unable to resist the urge to be a little dramatic, he made sure Yakov wouldn’t see which CD he was putting in just to keep him in suspense for another minute or so.

 

Yakov didn’t see the cover of the box, but for some reason he was suddenly filled with a nasty suspicion he knew what he was about to hear.

The nightmares of the past week, the memories of fourteen years ago, all came back with a sharpness he wasn’t ready for. He felt the pain rise in his chest and a stinging in his eyes.

_Which one will it be?_

The sound of _Farrucas_ crashed over him and he gritted his teeth. _Of course. How could it be anything else?_

_“I found this piece for you two to use,” Yakov said one morning, holding a CD up in his hand. He watched Sergei and Ekaterina exchange a look and felt foolish. “Unless you have your music prepared already?”_

_“No, no,” Ekaterina reassured him. “We were just saying over breakfast that we need to decide on what we’ll use soon.”_

_Sergei put an arm around her. “We’d love to hear it.”_

_“I think it’s just what you need for the Olympics,” Yakov told them as he put the music on._

_Always curious to see his pupils’ reaction to his suggestions, Yakov turned and watched the expressions on Sergei and Ekaterina’s face go from polite curiosity to excitement._

_“That’s great!” Sergei exclaimed partway into the melody._

_Ekaterina nodded. “What wonderful music!”_

“Isn’t the music wonderful?” Yuuri asked and Yakov wondered briefly if he was supposed to answer that.

Victor nodded appreciatively. “Do you think you can choreograph something to this?” he asked Yakov.

 

_“I’ll choreograph something for the two of you, then?” Yakov offered._

_The two skaters were more than happy to let him do that._

“Yes,” the old coach said, feeling the weight of all his years in that one moment. “I will.”

“Great!” Yuuri and Victor exclaimed in unison.

“That just leaves one more piece,” Victor began.

Yuuri took him by both of his hands. “I’m sure we’ll find something.”

Yakov watched them return to their training without comment. He watched the way they looked at each other and remembered the expression on Yuuri’s face when he showed up to his first practice without Victor.

 

_“Yakov Davidovich,” Sergei said, “I asked Katya to be my wife and she said yes!”_

_“About time,” Yakov muttered under his breath._

 

He thought of all the times Yuuri and Victor denied going out, all those times they had to deal with the press prying too much and asking too many personal questions.

 

_Sergei and Ekaterina were only dating for two weeks when it seemed like the whole world knew they were dating. Yakov wondered how the news could possibly spread so fast._

It was none of his business what country his skaters represented. He saw several pairs with skaters from different countries argue over the matter. Some came to a formal arrangement to please everyone, some broke up and never skated together again. The question never came up for Yuuri and Victor.

Every once in a while someone would try to talk Yakov into convincing his pupils to represent Russia. “You’re their coach and Victor is Russian anyway. Show some patriotism!” they would exclaim.

It didn’t help that the next winter Olympics was set to be in Sochi, but he wouldn’t let even that argument sway him.

 

_“Feels a bit strange, doesn’t it?” Sergei said as they marched side by side in a big group of Olympic athletes._

_Yakov made a non-committal in reply._

_“All those years we competed under one flag, and now we have another one,” Sergei explained, as if he didn’t think Yakov understood._

_The coach understood all too well. After all those years of waving a red flag with the yellow hammer and sickle, all those years of hearing “representing the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics” after each name, it was hard to adjust to waving a tri-coloured flag and hearing “representing the Russian Federation” after their names._

Yakov leaned against the boards. The memories wouldn’t leave him in peace and he realized that he was fighting them the only way he knew how – by avoiding the most painful one of them all. He pretended he was watching his pupils train on the ice and not mentally returning to his darkest hour.

_No. Not now. I must not think about it now. It’s done. I can’t do a thing about it now. What’s the point in thinking of all the “what ifs”? It won’t undo what happened. It won’t help Sergei or Katya._

He tightened his hands into fists, feeling his nails dig into his palms. He bit his lips as if afraid he was about to scream as images flashed before his eyes.

A pair skating together…

A collapse…

The hospital…

 

_Yakov was barking instructions to young Alexei, while Sergei and Katya practiced at the other end of the rink. They were going over one of their programs for Stars on Ice, getting ready to leave for another international tour._

_Alexei was practicing his jumps. He was a good student, which was why Yakov let his attention wander for a moment._

_He watched Sergei and Katya practice the quadruple twist lift – a move that had, in a way, become their signature move. The pair wasn’t there to get coaching from Yakov. They didn’t need his instructions and had come to train here more out of sentimental reasons than practical ones._

_Katya got down onto the ice and Sergei stopped. Yakov couldn’t hear what they said to each other next all he saw was them standing next to each other for a while, not going anywhere._

_Then Sergei collapsed and Katya screamed._

_The next moment was all chaos. Everyone in the rink ran to see what was happening. Even Yakov, forgetting he wasn’t wearing any skates, rushed across the ice to his pupil._

_“Seryozha! Seryozha!” Katya exclaimed. “He’s not breathing! Someone please call a doctor! Seryozha! Seryozhen’ka!”_

_Yakov stared down at the motionless body of his pupil and friend, and his hands tightened into fists. He watched Katya break down as she lowered her head and wept, looking like a weak little girl and not the calm adult she always was._

_He didn’t try to feel for Sergei’s pulse. He rose to his feet, pushed through the gathering crowd and called the ambulance himself. He shouted and cursed, demanding it get here fast and then he ran to the doors to meet the paramedics and lead them into the rink._

_An eternity seemed to pass before the ambulance rounded the nearest corner and came up to him. A group of paramedics got out and he ordered them to follow him._

_“It’s my pupil,” he said, “Sergei Grinkov, the two-time Olympic champion. He collapsed on the ice. His wife is with him right now.”_

_The paramedics followed without a word._

_By the time they reached the rink, several skaters had already carried Sergei’s body off the ice. Katya was holding his head up and whispering something incomprehensible._

_“Please,” Yakov said, feeling helpless and not even daring to hope. “He has a three-year-old daughter.”_

_But no Olympic medals, no wife and no little children could possibly make a difference and no matter what the paramedics did, Sergei didn’t return to life._

_The doctors in the hospital pronounced their verdict not long after: death from a massive heart attack._

 

The sound of laughter pulled Yakov out of his memories. On the ice, Victor held Yuuri up in his hands as they went around in a circle.

Yuuri pressed his forehead against Victor’s and took his partner’s face with both hands.

Why did they continue to insist that they weren’t a couple, Yakov wondered, when every movement, every line of their bodies radiated the words “I love you”? It just made no sense.

Yuuri released Victor’s head and arched backwards as Victor pressed his face to Yuuri’s chest.

Why didn’t they realize that the reason they had such great chemistry, the reason they could play a couple so convincingly was because they _were_ a couple? But more importantly – what would happen if they didn’t realize it soon?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ekaterina Gordeeva and Sergei Grinkov were a real pair skating team (pair skating not ice dancing). They skated in the 1980s-1990s. Sergei died of a heart attack out on the ice (in the US and not Russia), and he and his partner did pick the same music as Tessa and Scott did for the Olympics. I tweaked a few details, because artistic license, right?
> 
> [The Pink Floyd free skate](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jsZy97nARwo) where they included the Goose for the first time.


	14. Climbing Mount Olympus

After two national titles, the expectation that Yuuri and Victor would participate in the Olympics turned into a certainty.

The media, always looking for new angles for the Olympics travelled to St. Petersburg for interviews and hoping to catch a video of Yuuri and Victor training.

Yakov was absolutely adamant that no reporters disturb any of his pupils during their training and wouldn’t let anyone inside. A few people camped out, prepared to strike as soon as the pair came out.

They hid well, which was why they’d caught Yuuri and Victor completely off guard when three of them sprinted towards the two skaters, as if racing each other. More than that, all three journalists didn’t wait to catch their breath, but fired off a million questions a minute all at the same time.

Victor didn’t even register what half of the questions were about. He caught a reference to his injury, something about competing at home and what they thought their chances were of winning gold. He gave Yuuri a helpless look, hoping he would come up with a way out of this situation.

Yuuri stepped forward. “We’re very honoured for this chance to represent Canada at the Olympics,” he said, “and we’re training our hardest to win the gold medal. After that it will depend on what the judges think.” He put an arm around Victor’s. “I’m sorry, but we can’t answer any more questions: Victor’s aunt is waiting for us.”

Two of the journalists moved out of their way, catching the hint, leaving only one still standing in front of them. “How is your injury, Victor?” the remaining journalist asked, a note of sympathy in his voice.

Victor put on his most convincing smile. “It’s much better! I feel great and ready to battle for that gold medal!”

They walked away as casually as they could, doing their best to hide the fact that they were running away. They slipped into the metro station to catch a train back home, resisting the urge to look back and make sure they weren’t followed.

Yuuri offered Victor a free spot on one of the benches at the platform with the words, “It’s getting worse again, isn’t it?”

Victor nodded miserably as he sat down. “I’m doing everything the physiotherapist tells me!” he protested.

“Oh, Victor,” Yuuri sighed. He reached down and put his arms around Victor.

The sound of the train arriving made them rise to their feet. Yuuri released Victor to let him stand and then took his hand.

“If it gets too much, you have to tell me,” Yuuri insisted as the train came to a stop and people rushed out.

“Yuuri –”

“Promise you’ll tell me.”

Victor looked into Yuuri’s honest and open face and nodded.

“We’re partners,” Yuuri reminded him, “so we must have no secrets from each other, right?”

“Right.” _Oh god, I want to kiss you right now._ Why _do I want to kiss you right now?_

They boarded the train and the doors closed behind them. This time Yuuri hunted around for an empty seat for Victor and insisted he sit down. He stood next to Victor with the air of someone guarding him from everyone around them.

When they got off Yuuri took his time on the escalators, not rushing up the steps like he usually did. He remained silent until they left the station and were out on the street.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered, holding on to Victor’s arm.

“N-nothing.” Victor looked away, all too aware that he’d spent the last 15 minutes staring at Yuuri’s mouth.

“I thought you promised not to keep secrets from me?” Yuuri asked. “Or is it something you can’t tell me?”

“I… uh… I was just thinking…” He squeezed his eyes shut, as if terrified of his next few words, “…about kissing again. It made me feel better last time and I thought… I thought it would help this time too.” He opened his eyes and forced himself to look into Yuuri’s face to see his reaction.

Yuuri reached out with both hands and took Victor’s head.

Victor’s heart beat faster in terror.

It was still light out. The evening was warm, making it perfect for a pleasant walk, maybe even a date, but it didn’t even occur to Victor. They stood between several old apartment buildings, not caring who would see them as Yuuri pressed his mouth against Victor’s.

Finally Yuuri released him. His face remained wonderfully close as he looked into Victor’s eyes. “Do you want me to carry you the rest of the way?” he offered.

Victor felt more blood rush to his face at that suggestion. “No, no! I can’t… You shouldn’t…” He backed away just in case Yuuri decided to carry him anyway.

But Yuuri merely held out his arm for Victor to lean on and together they walked the rest of the way home.

Yuuri and Victor spent a lot of time listening to the music Yakov had picked out for their free skate. It was a piece by Mahler that delighted them more with each time they played the recording.

That evening Victor and Yuuri listened to it again, imagining out loud which elements they wanted to do for each part.

It came as no surprise to either of them that they both imagined the same elements throughout.

The next day they were explaining to Lilia what they wanted to include and asking her if she could come up with a way for them to get from one point to the other. They worked together for several weeks, adding elements in to see what would fit better and then taking out or changing anything they weren’t happy with. They played to all their strengths this time. The whole routine came together much faster than it usually did, giving them more time to practice it. It was a beautiful program. It was really _their_ program.

 

For their original dance Yakov invited flamenco dancers who’d lived and trained in a small town just outside Seville for several years before returning back home to Moscow. They’d come all the way up to St. Petersburg just to help the two skaters train.

Yuuri and Victor had several afternoons set aside for flamenco lessons from them. This was nothing like watching the tango videos they’d borrowed from the library so many years ago.

The skaters stood and watched the performers dance in a dimly lit room. A man played the guitar and several people accompanied him by clapping their hands.

The dancers moved slowly around each other. Victor followed them in fascination: from the way they raised their arms, to the tapping of their feet and to the expressions on their faces.

It was hard to translate the dance with all its nuances onto the ice. Victor and Yuuri had skated a flamenco before, but this was the first time they realized that the dance was usually performed on a small stage. How could they translate that into a skate on a big ice rink?

One of the women walked over to Victor and held out her arm. “Now, you dance,” she said. She saw him hesitate for a moment and pulled him impatiently into the middle of the dancing group.

The guitar sounded louder now, commanding him to move to the beat. He stepped slowly, doing his best to repeat what he’d seen them do and hoping he didn’t look ridiculous.

Around him people clapped. Someone shouted something in what might have been Spanish and might have been a different language.

And then Victor found himself face to face with Yuuri. His eyes were glowing again.

Victor followed his movements without thinking.

Faster!

He and Yuuri circled each other.

 _Dark eyes,_ Victor remembered. _Passionate eyes._

Yuuri held his head high, as if he was a proud dancer from the south of Spain and not a figure skater who still got nervous before most of their competitions. He was close, a few centimeters away, but to Victor he felt far away, high up on a mountain somewhere.

His hands moved and his feet hit the floor to the beat of the music.

It was so warm that it was getting hard to breathe.

Faster!

Yuuri’s smile was goading Victor on, as if taunting him. He was suddenly sure that he could do anything Yuuri asked for.

But Yuuri remained silent, still moving to the beat.

The music ended and the dancers clapped them back on the backs

“You go it!” someone exclaimed.

Victor grinned and caught Yuuri’s eye. He reached out and Yuuri placed a hand over his.

“Again,” Yuuri said softly, but it was as if he’d roared the command: the dancers all stepped back and the guitar began to play again.

They moved slowly together. Victor had no idea what his hands or his feet were doing. All he was conscious of was the spark in Yuuri’s eyes.

_How I love you,_

_How I fear you,_

_Dark eyes._

They returned home late and happier than anyone in the whole world.

Yuuri caught Victor in one of the stairwells and clung on tightly to him. “I’ve never been this happy in my whole life!” he whispered, his voice full of excitement.

Victor backed up against a wall, pulling Yuuri after him. “Me too.”

They had another two floors to go and Victor’s shins complained, but for the moment he didn’t care the slightest bit: Yuuri’s face was a few centimeters away.

He wasn’t sure which of them reached first. Maybe it was the excitement of the moment, or maybe it was something else, but one minute they were staring at each other and the next – they were kissing.

Victor’s head spun. He felt his knees buckling under him.

Yuuri released him and pressed his forehead against Victor’s. “Are you alright?” he whispered.

“Yeah…” _I think so._

He leaned on Yuuri’s arm the rest of the way up the stairs.

They paused at the door and Victor pulled his key out. For some reason he handed it over to Yuuri who unlocked the door and motioned Victor to enter first.

“We’re home, auntie!” he called out.

“There you two are!” she said, coming out to greet them. “I was starting to worry.”

Two weeks earlier, much to Victor’s surprise, his mother went back home, leaving him and Yuuri in the care of his aunt once more. They’d seen her off to the airport where she kissed both him and Yuuri on the cheeks and wished them good luck together.

It was a strange way of putting it, but Victor had merely nodded at the time. He didn’t get the chance to give her words any more thought.

“What were you two doing so late?” the aunt asked as they made for their rooms.

Yuuri caught Victor’s eye. There was something strange in his eyes and then he turned to smile at Aunt Alla. “Dancing flamenco,” he said.

For some reason it had felt like more than dancing flamenco. But, then again, maybe it was how flamenco was supposed to feel and that was their first time doing it properly.

 

Despite the surgery and the regular physiotherapy, Victor’s shins refused to be ignored. If, at first, it had seemed as if he was on the mend with a few painful twinges here and there now it was a completely different story.

Some mornings Victor would wake up and find he was in too much pain to skate. Other mornings he’d wake up, feel no pain and try to practice the way he used to before the injury and push himself too far, making practice impossible for the next day or two.

“We need to come up with a different training approach,” Yuuri pointed out. “There must be a way to do it that lets you skate the next day too.”

He sat on Victor’s bed while they talked. It was another one of those mornings when Victor woke up in too much pain to practice.

Victor sighed and dropped his head onto his hands. “The free skate isn’t so bad,” he admitted.

“I don’t know how to tell you this,” Yuuri began and Victor raised his head to look at him, terrified of the next words that would come out of Yuuri’s mouth. “But an invitation came yesterday. Skate Canada is inviting us to train in Vancouver with the other athletes for a while.”

Victor gave a heavy sigh and clutched the blanket. They wanted to improve their team spirit, probably, but – apart from the odd journalist here and there – they’d been too far away from home to get the Olympics jitters. Now they’d be right in the thick of it.

Yuuri put his arms around Victor and kissed him gently on the cheek. “We don’t have to go, if you don’t want to,” he said, brushing his fingers through Victor’s hair.

“They’ll ask why we’re not there,” Victor whispered miserably. “Everyone will wonder and then it will get out that I’m still not healed.” He pressed his face against his knees.

Yuuri’s hold around him tightened.

“Why am I still in so much pain?” Victor wailed. “Why won’t my legs heal already?” He wept, embarrassed of his outburst and terrified of the feeling of helplessness again. What would he do if his legs hurt like this at the Olympics? Forget winning gold, how could he hope to skate?

 _I have to,_ he told himself. _This chance only comes once in a lifetime. I’ve wanted this for too long to let go of it now._

He sat up. “I’ll go see Tatiyana Petrovna today,” he promised. “You need to go practice.”

Yuuri wiped Victor’s face dry. “Promise you’ll call me if anything happens,” he said, sitting down in front of Victor.

Victor nodded.

Yuuri’s hands slid over Victor’s legs. “Heal quicker,” he whispered to them and pulled away.

Victor watched Yuuri leave the room, wishing he could call him back in.

 

A week later they flew to Vancouver to join the training camp. A group of volunteers met them and took them to Whistler, where the skaters all got to stay in the newly-built Athlete’s Village. Yuuri and Victor shared a room that was similar to the hotel rooms they’d shared over the years.

Victor and Yuuri watched different skaters go out onto the ice. The atmosphere was completely different from what they were used to. There was a different kind of excitement, one mixed with a sense of pride as well as a nervousness that seemed to radiate from everything, even the walls.

“We’re up next,” Yuuri whispered to Victor.

Victor rose from the bench. His shins were aching again, but he hid his pain as best as he could. They started with a run-through of the compulsory dance, for which they’d picked the golden waltz. Yuuri and Victor held on to the boards as they removed their skate guards. They went out onto the ice with a confidence neither of them felt.

Halfway into the skate he wanted it to be over already. It started to fall apart then and they still had so much more to go through.

“Knees,” Yuuri said, but Victor didn’t care.

His shins were burning.

There was the original dance next, he reminded himself. Victor pushed on, reminding himself that he wouldn’t be able to stop at the Olympics.

Yuuri stopped before the music did. He took Victor by the hands and led him to the boards.

Only then did Victor realize there were tears on his face from all the pain.

 _Seven months. Just seven months left until the Olympics,_ Victor told himself. _I’m running out of time. I’m not ready. Oh god!_ He stood by the boards with his head lowered as sobs shook his whole body.

“Are you alright? Do you need help?” someone asked.

“Leave me alone!” Victor cried, putting his hands over his ears as if hoping to block the whole world out. “Please, leave me alone!”

He heard Yuuri apologize and ask everyone in a calm tone of voice to leave them in peace. Then he let Yuuri lead him back into the change room where they sat down on one of the benches.

Victor buried his face in Yuuri’s chest and wept harder. It was over. It was done. All because of him and his stupid shins!

“Can I speak to you a moment?” someone asked. “I think I know how to help.”

Victor clung on to Yuuri, saying nothing.

“What is it?” Yuuri asked.

“There’s a training technique I came up with after I damaged my knee,” the person started. “It really helped me. What you need to do is to build up your endurance. It won’t be easy, but I know it will work.”

Finally Victor released Yuuri and turned to look at the speaker, wiping the tears from his face.

The man was one of the skaters they’d watched go out on the ice earlier. Victor remembered the way he radiated confidence that bordered on arrogance. Now there was an expression of genuine sympathy on his face.

“What is it?” Yuuri asked.

“What you do is skate for 30 seconds. Then rest for 30. Then you go for another 10 seconds. Then rest for 10 and so on. It’s easier if you get someone to call out the time, or I guess you could set an alarm. The important thing is to stick to it. Don’t push yourself too hard. Skate, then rest. Got it?”

Victor and Yuuri exchanged a look.

“Let’s give it a try,” Victor agreed.

“Thank you,” Yuuri got down in front of Victor, unlaced his skates and removed them very carefully.

“Don’t thank me yet,” the skater said, making for the door. He paused and then looked back at them. “Thank me when you win that gold medal.” He winked and left.

Victor stared after him in silence for several seconds before turning back to face Yuuri.

“Let’s rest today,” Yuuri suggested before Victor could open his mouth.

He had no argument against that.

They returned to their room and ordered food in.

After dinner Victor’s shins didn’t hurt and they went out for a slow walk, admiring the mountains all around them. The air was clear and, despite it being the middle of the summer, it was cold.

“It’s just like a typical summer in St. Petersburg, isn’t it?” Victor joked.

“It just needs some rain.”

The next day they tried out the new training technique. It slowed them down, but in this way they could finally do a complete run-through of one program in a single day.

They started with the free skate, tried the original dance the next day and finally risked the compulsory dance on the third day. When they finished one run-through they skated together in circles around the rink, holding hands and merely stroking over the ice.

By the time they returned to Russia Victor built up enough endurance to do three run-throughs of each program a week.

Victor was finally daring to hope again.

Their two assignments for the Grand Prix were announced a day later: the Trophée Éric Bompard in Paris and Skate Canada, which in deference to the Olympics being in Vancouver that season, was moved to the sixth slot of the Grand Prix series for that year.

 

Victor’s father met them at the airport in Paris. They took a taxi to their hotel together.

Usually Victor napped in taxis, especially after a flight, no matter how long it had been, but this time his legs were in so much pain that all he could do was sob quietly in the back seat.

“Bad flight?” the taxi driver asked sympathetically. “Did they lose your luggage, or something? A friend of mine once got a cup of juice spilled over his pants! And then the flight attendant dropped plates over his head! Imagine that!”

“Please…” his father began.

“My legs hurt!” Victor cried out, unable to contain his pain anymore. “They won’t stop hurting!”

Yuuri held him tightly without saying a word.

“Then why are we doing this?” his father demanded, turning around in the front seat to face his son. “Why are we going? Let’s go home. I mean your proper home with your mother and me. You can rest there, Victor, and recover properly.”

“No,” Victor said, hands tightening into fists as he fought through the pain. “No! I will go. I have to make it to the Olympics!”

There were tears on Yuuri’s face. The sight of them pained Victor more than his shins.

“I will get through this. _We_ will get through this. Everything will be fine,” Victor promised in a whisper, brushing Yuuri’s hair aside and trying to look and sound optimistic.

Yuuri pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I hope so,” he whispered back. “I just wish I didn’t feel so helpless!”

Victor put an arm around him.

 

Despite the pain, the compulsory dance went well. Sadly, the same couldn’t be said about the original dance as it felt sloppy and they were dissatisfied with their own skating more than the marks.

“It’s all these additions,” Victor lamented to Yuuri that evening when they sat in their room and went over the skate again. “I think they’re ruining the flow.”

“Let’s take some elements out,” Yuuri suggested. “To be honest, I want to change the compulsory dance too: the golden waltz is too harsh on your shins. How will you skate the original dance right after it at the Olympics?”

Victor sighed. Would the trouble with his shins ever end? Was he cursed to suffer like this forever?

Yuuri was silent for a while, as if waiting for Victor to answer his question. But what could he say? Wasn’t it too late to change the compulsory dance now? How many run-throughs could they get in before their next competition? They didn’t dare pick up the pace for fear it would do more harm than good.

“I’ll talk to Yakov,” Yuuri finally said. “We’ll see what he says.”

Victor nodded. Maybe Yuuri had a point. Maybe skating something less painful on his shins would mean that he’d be able to recover faster.

They slept side by side again, holding hands under the blankets as if even in their sleep they refused to be separated.

 

When they returned to St. Petersburg they spoke to Yakov about it and he agreed with the changes they suggested.

“If the golden waltz is giving you so much trouble, it’s better to switch to something else,” he said, “but only under one condition.”

They stared at him in terror, worried what words they would hear next.

“You don’t have time to argue over music, I hope you understand that.” A faint smile appeared on the old coach’s face.

His pupils nodded as one and rushed off, determined to find something that would work as quickly as possible.

Before they even started to go through Yakov’s music collection they knew part of the answer.

“Tango,” Yuuri said and Victor nodded.

“Tango,” Victor repeated.

It was their strength. There was no time for challenging programs or experimenting with something new.

By the end of the week they found it: _Tango Romantica._ It was a beautiful piece they loved as soon as they heard it.

The music picked out, they went to Lilia for the choreography. Despite their expectations, she didn’t comment on how late it was and merely promised to have something ready for them soon.

“Maybe Yakov talked to her about it,” Victor whispered to Yuuri after they left.

Still, no matter how fast they worked, by the time they had to go to Skate Canada they only managed one full run-through of the whole program.

As in Paris, they had to make sure to skate well in practice where the judges would be watching. It had to look like everything was fine. The injury had healed and there was no pain at all. Victor smiled for the audience and looked happy in all his interviews.

Everything was great! They had a few set-backs, but they were back on track for the Olympics!

Only Yuuri saw him cry on the morning of the compulsory dance and only Yuuri knew that the pain was still there. They couldn’t risk asking for a physiotherapist to come visit Victor and Yuuri spent every evening doing his best to relieve the pain in Victor’s shins.

The tango pulled them through – it pleased the audience as well as the judges, but at the flamenco everything fell apart.

Victor went around on the ice, forgetting what he’d learned in his flamenco lesson with Yuuri as his eyes searched the crowd for his and Yuuri’s family.

His father’s words echoed in his ears. _“Why are we doing this? Why are we going?”_

This was their county’s big moment. They needed to be at their best. Did they deserve to even be on the team if every other day was nothing but pain?

 _I have to,_ he told himself. _I have to do this for Yuuri. He put up with a lot for my sake._

He realized then that his mind had been somewhere far off while the skate continued and that there was almost no time left for him to do anything.

The music ended and they froze in their final position.

_I’m sorry, Yuuri._

How could anyone expect good marks after something like that?

This was their last international competition before the Olympics. They needed to make it to the Final more than ever before.

 

That evening Yuuri and Victor sat in their room with a defeated air.

 _Is this it?_ Victor thought, his heart beating fast.

Yuuri rose. Victor watched him go to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

He thought of the excitement they’d felt when they were putting together that free skate. He remembered the way Yuuri’s eyes sparkled when they finished their first full run-through.

He followed Yuuri into the bathroom and put his arms around him, his stomach pressing against Yuuri’s back. “Yuuri?”

“Hmmm?”

Victor smiled. His heart was overflowing with warmth for Yuuri, dear, _dear_ Yuuri, darling Yuuri. He pressed his cheek against Yuuri’s as he went on staring at their reflection in the mirror.

“Let’s do well tomorrow,” he whispered. “Forget the Olympics and the Final. Let’s just do well, skate our best.”

Yuuri nodded, his mouth still full of toothpaste.

They really did look great together, Victor suddenly realized, one hand sliding up Yuuri’s arm as he watched its progress in the mirror. They were the most beautiful pair out there, he told himself.

Yuuri leaned down to rinse his mouth. He straightened up and there was a warm smile on his lips. “Together,” he said.

Victor nodded.

 

He said the word again during practice. “Together.” Arms curved around each other, every single touch very delicate and a sense of comfort in each other’s arms…

“We’re the most beautiful pair out on the ice,” Victor whispered into Yuuri’s ear as they left the rink.

He expected Yuuri to argue. To his surprise, there was a faint blush on Yuuri’s face as he nodded. “Yeah.”

 

Victor said it again in the warmup as around them the audience cheered and applauded at the sound of their name. “Beautiful.”

Yuuri’s ears turned red, but he kept waving up at the stands.

“Warmup begins now!”

He turned and took Victor’s hands, starting to move backwards over the ice.

Victor focused all of his attention on Yuuri, on his smile and the curve of his shoulders in his white shirt that sparkled, despite being a billowy and a little see-through.

 _Yuuri is the most beautiful person out there,_ Victor thought and realized that he really believed it.

They kept their movements delicate, their expressions tender, thinking of everything the other had done for them.

“Your warmup is now over. Please clear the ice for the first pair.”

The announcement felt as if someone had snuck up on him and dropped a bucket of cold water over his head. Victor stared around in amazement, unable to remember for a moment where he was or what he was supposed to be doing.

“Come on,” Yuuri said and led the way off the ice.

They stood with Yakov and watched the pairs go out one by one. Yakov was silent. Victor glanced at him and wondered if they were about to get a long lecture, but still the old coach said nothing.

Finally it was time for them to prepare for their skate. They exited onto the ice and stopped before their coach.

They wrapped their arms around each other and held on tight.

“Let’s skate how we did in that warmup,” Yuuri suggested.

“Yes.”

“Next on the ice – Yuuri Katsuki and Victor Nikiforov, representing Canada!”

“Go,” Yakov urged them.

Victor released Yuuri to take him by the hand and they skated to their starting position. He met Yuuri’s eye and knew in that moment that they would be fine.

There was a tenderness in Yuuri’s face that he knew was in his own as well.

Together.

They moved over the ice together. They breathed together. They faced every challenge that came their way together. They even carried Victor’s pain together.

And together they won that night. For the first time since the new points system was introduced one of the judges gave the maximum of 10 points for performance and it was all theirs.

 

Less than two weeks later they sat in a plane bound for Tokyo, anxious and terrified.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the captain here again, the tower is turning us around. My apologies, but the flight is cancelled due to a –”

Every passenger groaned and complained to their neighbours.

Victor blinked in surprise. Here they were – in the plane and ready to go, so why couldn’t they go?

Beside him Yuuri was panicking. “Will they delay the Final, if we don’t make it there on time? What if we get disqualified?”

“I’ll figure something out,” Victor promised.

And he kept his word – as soon as they returned to the airport, Victor slipped through the crowd, still holding on to Yuuri’s hand, until he found someone to talk to.

“Please,” he said, “Yuuri and I need to be in Tokyo as soon as possible. We have a competition in less than 48 hours!”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

But cancellations here, delays there and rare flights to Tokyo meant that by the time they arrived at the site of the Final, exhausted and grouchy, it was the night before their original dance.

No motivational speeches helped the next day. Yakov sat in the kiss and cry with his arms crossed over his chest and said nothing.

Victor couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d carried a thousand kilograms around the rink with them as they’d skated.

But then he raised his head and saw the defeated look on Yuuri’s face. “We still have our free skate,” he reminded his partner.

Yuuri merely nodded.

“No fooling around tonight,” Yakov ordered. “I want you both to go to sleep as soon as you can. Leave the reporters to me.”

“Thank you,” Yuuri whispered.

Victor was silent. By an odd coincidence, they’d never been assigned to compete at the NHK Trophy, so, thanks to a World Championships a few years ago, this was their second time in Japan. That first time Yuuri had been so curious he dragged Victor out to go exploring and they’d both been left with a strong need to see more. How could they pass this chance up now?

 _Next time,_ Victor promised himself.

They didn’t talk much. They didn’t have the time or energy to think about how important the competition was, or to be nervous about the end result. Yakov distracted the press and they slipped away to their hotel room where they passed out without even bothering to change out of their clothes.

 

Victor woke up with someone’s limbs tangled around him. It took him some time to gather enough energy to turn his head and see Yuuri smiling back at him.

“Sorry…” Yuuri whispered.

“Good morning!”

Yuuri crawled off him, untangling himself with great care.

“What time is it?” Victor asked, sitting up.

As if in answer to his question, the alarm on Yuuri’s phone went off, making them both laugh.

 

They ended up in second place and watched as the press focused all of its attention on Georgi and Anya. The two skaters got stuck in a conference that didn’t look like it would end anytime soon, answering questions which weren’t that different from each other.

“You know,” Yuuri said that evening as they set out for a nice slow walk, “I don’t mind them getting all the questions.”

Victor laughed, leaning on Yuuri’s arm. “Me neither.” _It also means everyone is going to be putting a lot of pressure on them, expecting them to win and I’d rather not deal with that right now._

Oddly enough, the silver medal became a good confidence boost for both of them. It showed them that, despite all the setbacks they’d faced, they still had a shot at the gold medal.

When they won Nationals several weeks later they stood on the podium, faces glowing with pride, the gold medals around their necks gleaming under all the lights.

 _We deserve that gold,_ Victor thought, _and we must win it!_

Two weeks later he wept at the boards again, convinced that he didn’t deserve to even be on the Olympic team. Someone else’s chance to participate had been stolen for a skater whose shins wouldn’t stop hurting no matter what he did.

“Victor…” Yuuri whispered, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“You should’ve picked someone else to be your partner!” he wailed. “Someone with better shins! Someone –”

“Victor,” Yuuri interrupted gently, “I don’t want any other partner. I just want to skate with you, no matter what place we end up in at the Olympics.”

“Yuuri…”

“I don’t regret anything, Victor,” Yuuri went on. He reached out and brushed Victor’s hair out of his face as the skater stared up at him through the tears, his arms leaning on the boards. Victor’s hair was getting long again and he waited impatiently for the day when Yuuri would braid it for him like he’d done before.

“Let’s promise to skate with no regrets,” Yuuri whispered.

Victor’s lips parted, but before he could say a word, Yuuri placed a finger over them.

“Please don’t argue.”

Victor nodded wordlessly.

They were back in the Athlete’s Village, preparing for the Games on the very same ice rink where they’d have to compete in a few weeks.

The village bubbled with more excitement the second time around. In the evenings athletes got together and had fun. Victor and Yuuri got pulled into a group full of figure skaters and, with time, learned everyone else’s name. The skater who’d helped them was there too, of course. Usually he was the loudest of the group as well as the one with the wildest ideas.

 

Four years earlier Victor had watched the opening ceremony, amazed by how beautiful it looked. Now he was among the big crowd of athletes marching behind the flag with Yuuri at his side, waving happily at the audience and the cameras.

The parade of countries consisted of many places he’d never even heard of, each group in their Olympic uniform. Some groups were so small they didn’t even have ten athletes and others looked big enough to fill a whole stadium.

Music played and many of the athletes did a little dance as they followed their path. Here it was – their Olympic moment. All the energy of every single person in the place united into a strong belief that he could do anything.

Yuuri took his hand and said something, but it was too loud to make out any of his words. Victor merely saw the excited glow of his eyes and knew.

He clutched Yuuri’s hand tightly and smiled.

The ceremony, that big exciting party celebrating sport and the country they were in, continued. Afterwards, Victor couldn’t remember any of it. He had a vague sense of there being a lot of speeches and something about lighting the Olympic flame, but what he _could_ remember was the big grin on Yuuri’s face and the thrill in his eyes.

_We’re here. We made it._

They partied late into the night, staying at the ceremony long past the end and then joining others at a dance party. It was four in the morning and they were both completely exhausted when they stumbled back into their room.

Yuuri tripped and fell over Victor. He buried his face in Victor’s shoulder and laughed, doing his best to stifle the sound in Victor’s shirt.

Victor rubbed his back and tried to say something, but he passed out halfway through the sentence.

 

When he opened his eyes the sun was shining in through the window and illuminating the wall opposite. He turned over and saw Yuuri lying on his back, his arms in a tangled mess, as he slept blissfully on.

Victor shifted closer to him and closed his eyes again.

 

They returned to their regular training the next day under Yakov’s watchful eye. The coach hadn’t marched with them, or with his Russian pupils during the country parade. He’d stayed in the audience, determined to not show favouritism to any of his skaters.

Between practice sessions, the figure skaters chatted to each other like old friends as if there were no big competitions coming up.

Victor leaned forward against the boards and spoke with a relaxed smile on his lips to Yuuri who was reclining against the boards beside him.

This was true happiness – this moment they had together. His shins ached much less now and he made sure to see a physiotherapist every day.

“You should go watch other competitions,” Victor said. “Don’t worry about me. This kind of chance doesn’t often present itself.”

Yuuri shook his head. “No, I don’t want to watch any of them alone. I’d rather be with you.” There were beads of sweat on his forehead and Victor realized they were making him think about kissing again.

He rested his chin in his hand and protested half-heatedly that Yuuri should go.

Instead of an answer, Yuuri stepped closer and ran his fingers over Victor’s hair. He fiddled with it as if about to braid it, but it was still too short.

Victor closed his eyes and gave a happy sigh.

Yuuri lowered his hands to Victor’s shoulders and pressed a kiss to the back of Victor’s head. “You are more important to me than any of those competitions,” he said.

Victor turned his head and met Yuuri’s eye. “Same,” he whispered.

“Check out the lovebirds!” someone shouted and they turned to see one of the skaters go out on the ice.

Victor put an arm around Yuuri’s waist, afraid the skater would move away, but he remained at Victor’s side.

The lone figure skater laughed and then jumped a quadruple flip. He laughed and kept going.

Yuuri and Victor exchanged a look, released each other and went out on the ice to meet him. They stopped on either side of him.

He laughed. “What is this? Are you trying to scare me?”

“Are you scared?” Victor taunted.

“Of course not!” the skater protested and Victor believed him. Besides, who could be scared of him and Yuuri?

“How about a little competition?” Victor offered. “You can’t do lifts on your own of course, and I won’t pretend that I can jump the quadruple flip, but you can do twizzles, can’t you?”

“Of course I can!”

They were supposed to keep training, but Victor couldn’t help it. He remembered those days back in his childhood when he and Yuuri would compete in who could do the fastest twizzles, or who could change direction the most times without falling over, and his competitiveness kicked in now too.

As an extra handicap, he and Yuuri offered to stay in synch with each other and, even with the skater between them, they beat him in ten minutes.

He laughed, leaning against the boards as he tried to catch his breath. “Will you come watch me compete tomorrow?” he finally asked when he seemed to run out of laughter.

Victor nodded.

 

Two days later they watched him walk out to accept his gold medal. “In first place – Jean-Jacques Leroy, representing Canada!”

Victor sat back and looked at Yuuri. “It’s our turn to win gold and thank him for his great advice.” He saw the nervousness in Yuuri’s face and put his arms around him. “We’re the best in the world,” he whispered into his partner’s ear. “We deserve that gold.”

He felt Yuuri tremble as he clutched Victor’s hands tightly with both of his own. It was time to make their dream a reality.

 

The change room atmosphere was colder than ever. Skaters avoided each other’s eye and refused to talk to anyone. Georgi and Anya were too nervous to talk to anyone.

In the women’s change room, Anya sat with a little mirror in her hand and adjusted her makeup, not because there was something wrong with it, but because it gave her something to do.

Georgi who’d given long answers that morning about his plans for the future stood against a wall with his arms crossed over his chest and bit his lip in frustration.

The doors opened and Yuuri and Victor came in, hand in hand.

“…something green. What do you think?”

“Hmmm,” Yuuri said, as they made their way to the back of the change room. “I think light blue will suit you better and bring out your eyes.”

Victor chuckled and unzipped his jacket.

Every skater watched the man who’d wept before what felt like every practice and competition laugh louder and wondered if the joke was on them.

They got dressed as if there was no else in the room with them and pressed their foreheads together.

“Ciao, ciao called me this morning,” Yuuri admitted in a low voice. “He wished us luck and promised to watch all our skates.”

Victor nodded. He released Yuuri and shuffled through his bag to find the safety pin Yuuri always kept pinned inside his costume for good luck.

Yuuri offered him his back and Victor found a good spot for the pin. He slid his hands over Yuuri’s shoulders and pressed a kiss over the pin. It was all part of their preparation ritual now.

Then Victor sat down to put his skates on.

Yuuri lowered himself at his feet and slid his fingers over Victor’s shins. “Behave,” he whispered.

The other skaters weren’t watching them anymore. Even watching felt like intruding on something very private. They didn’t see the way Victor looked at Yuuri, or the look he got in return. They didn’t see the words that hung in the air, but the felt them without looking. They were the same words that always hung in the air between those two.

 

Tango!

The tango of their compulsory dance was different than the first tango they’d skated in a competition. Where was that librarian? Would she recognize the two little boys who’d once borrowed a stack of tango videos to better understand the dance?

Victor’s hand travelled slowly over Yuuri’s bare arm as they moved together. He let himself be daring, moving like someone who had no fears and had complete faith in his partner. He jumped into Yuuri’s arms without hesitation and let him hold him upside down.

The audience responded with great enthusiasm.

They pulled apart briefly only to get closer still. Yuuri’s face came daringly close, his lips within reach, and then he dropped down as the music ended.

Cheers filled the arena as hundreds of spectators waved Canadian flags. Only now, as they waved at their audience, did Victor notice how many people were there. Not a single seat was empty. The arena was filled to bursting.

They finished waving and headed for the kiss and cry. This time they all sat quietly, waiting for their marks as the nervousness crept back in. They weren’t the last pair out on the ice, but only Georgi and Anya were left.

“And the scores for Yuuri Katsuki and Victor Nikiforov are…”

Victor didn’t dare raise his eyes. He watched Yuuri clench his hands tighter in his lap. After some hesitation, he plucked up the courage to reach out and take his partner’s hands.

“…and they are currently in first place!”

Victor raised his eyes. “What?” he whispered.

“First place,” Yuuri whispered and met Victor’s eyes.

This meant that at worst they would end up in second place after the compulsory dance and they still had the original dance and the free skate to go.

They left the kiss and cry to find a spot where they could stand and watch Georgi and Anya skate. Their compulsory dance was their strength. They’d picked a golden waltz and dressed as Natasha and Andrei from War and Peace. It was a sweet program that they performed very well. It made everyone who knew them forget the frequent fights between the two skaters.

Victor watched, unable to tear his eyes away. He’d often wondered how they managed to stay together despite all their fights and shouting matches.

Yet, here they were. Anya smiled like someone falling in love for the first time and Georgi led her over the ice with a very pleased look on his face.

When they finished Victor knew they’d get the top marks for the compulsories. He looked at Yuuri, worried at what he’d see on his face, but his partner was smiling.

“We’ll have to work harder,” he said and his eyes gleamed with determination.

 

Yuuri and Victor stood at the boards with Yakov. “Remember your flamenco lessons,” Yakov told them.

They nodded and looked at each other.

“Ready?” Yuuri whispered.

Victor nodded. He held out his hand and Yuuri took it.

“The next pair, representing Canada – Yuuri Katsuki and Victor Nikiforov!”

Cheers greeted the sound of their names. Victor risked a glance at the stand and, sure enough, they were packed full of people, just like before.

They got into their starting position and Victor thought about the lessons again. Yuuri before him in something dark in a dimly-lit room, the clapping of the dancers’ hands, the stomping of so many feet.

Yuuri was in black and scarlet, like a real flamenco dancer. Their eyes met and there was that fire in his gaze that all flamenco dancers have.

 _We are flamenco dancers,_ Victor told himself. _This is us._

 _Farrucas_ began to play with its mad tempo and hand clapping and Victor was back in that room with the dancers. He and Yuuri danced away as people watched on, clapping to the beat.

Pain? What pain? There was only the dance and what did it matter if they were on a wooden stage that trembled under their feet, or the cold ice?

Faster!

There was no music now, only clapping. Faster! Faster! They moved around each other as something burned in Victor’s chest.

They stopped moving as the music ended, but something was still burning in Victor’s chest.

Yuuri pulled him into a hug as a different kind of clapping filled the arena. They released each other and turned. Every person in the arena was on their feet and chanting their names.

Victor raised Yuuri’s hand and they bowed, then turned and bowed again. They had to keep going. Victor wasn’t sure what would happen if he stopped to think about what he had to do next and just did what he always did. His mind was blank as he got into the kiss and cry and sat down with Yuuri at his side.

The audience continued to chant their names.

On a whim, Victor waved and blew a kiss towards them. “Come on, Yuuri!” he whispered.

Their eyes met. The expression Yuuri had had in his eyes all through the flamenco remained there even now.

“Yuuri…”

“And the scores are…”

Yuuri raised Victor’s hand to his lips and kissed it. Victor gave Yuuri’s hand a kiss as well. They stared at each other throughout both kisses.

“…they are currently in first place!”

They were in the lead again. Would Georgi and Anya beat them in the original dance now? Victor turned to look at the scoreboard and broke his eye contact with Yuuri.

How much would Georgi and Anya get?

They had to wait for them to skate to find out. They’d done all they could and there was nothing left but to watch anxiously as their rivals delivered another flawless original dance and the judges decided what to give them.

The scoreboard appeared on the big TV screens, showing the current standings and Victor’s mouth opened slightly. There was Georgi and Anya’s total score for the first two segments and just 0.5 points above them was Victor and Yuuri’s score.

“First,” Yuuri whispered.

Victor put an arm around him and pulled him close.

The wait that followed was pure agony, so Victor talked about the program. He and Yuuri talked about it over dinner and then as they took turns brushing their teeth and taking a shower. They kept going until one of them drifted off mid-sentence and then again over breakfast. Suddenly there were a million little details to sort out and the practice session didn’t feel long enough, so they talked it all through.

They were even talking it through out on the ice before they were up.

Yakov eyed both of his pupils sternly. “I want a good free skate today, got it?” he said, as if they’d spent the whole day skipping practice and fooling around.

Instinct kicked in and as one they said, “Yes, Mr. Feltsman,” forgetting they called their coach by his first name now and feeling as if they were 13 and 15 again, as if they were still with Celestino and Yakov was his friend who’d dropped by to teach them how to skate to the Russian Medley.

The coach’s eyes dug into Yuuri and then into Victor. “Good. Now go.”

 

Yakov watched his most promising pupils go from nervous to terrified, but it was a different kind of terrified, the kind that they could skate with. He’d seen what was happening over the past 24 hours and he was determined to prevent the nervous breakdown by any means necessary. This was what they were working towards. This was the reward for the surgery, the practice alone, the pain, the constantly aching shins, and he was damned if he was going to let them throw all that aside.

 _That gold medal is yours,_ he thought. _Now go take it._

He’d done everything he could to remain impartial. He’d gone to great lengths to make sure that all of his pupils got equal treatment during this Olympic season, but he couldn’t deny one simple fact. Georgi and Anya were very good, but Yuuri and Victor were better, much better.

 _I thought I trained you to compete in any conditions!_ he thought angrily.

He watched them go out on the ice with an air of innocence. They were both in white, as if to highlight just how innocent they were.

“Next on the ice –” the audience’s screams drowned out the rest of the words and Yakov did his best to keep a straight face. The other Canadian skaters got enthusiastic welcomes, of course, but none of them had been quite this loud.

It occurred to him then that two athletes like Yuuri and Victor who were talented and handsome had a real chance of becoming celebrities after a win here and then he’d need an army to fight the media off. _I’ll just have to deal with it._

As they got into position he thought of the two teenagers he’d taken under his wing. The feelings between them had remained the same no matter what life threw at them. That was what had gone into the skate and what had helped him make his choice. He’d expected them to accept this music without argument – it suited them perfectly.

There it was – that delicate tenderness between them that could only be described with one word.

Love

Victor leaned into Yuuri’s touch and closed his eyes with a smile on his face.

There had been talks about the Goose not being a legal move, but Yakov had dug up the rulebook and combed through it to make sure. They tweaked Victor’s exit from it and left it at that.

Word had gotten around, of course, about the Goose and its name, so that when Victor climbed onto Yuuri’s back and raised his arms the applause was almost deafening.

_Don’t think about the Olympics or the audience. Focus on your skating! Focus on each other!_

He gritted his teeth and fought down the urge to shout their names and join the cheering.

But they didn’t need any urging on. They got to the end and crouched down together, cheek to cheek, all gentle smiles and careful holds.

Another wave of cheering filled the arena then.

They rose to their feet and bowed. Yuuri always got down on one knee. All these years later and still the ballet training slipped in here and there in the way he raised his arms or bowed to the audience.

Yakov walked back into the kiss and cry and waited patiently

 

Victor could barely remember how the skate went this time. He had a strong feeling of having been somewhere else the whole time while his body moved over the ice.

The nervousness was back and he almost stumbled when he was getting off the ice. Yuuri put his skate guards on and held Victor in place as he did the same.

Yakov sat in the kiss and cry with a smile on his face and Victor knew what it meant: there wouldn’t be a lecture this time.

They stared at the scoreboard and waited. What would it show? What would they get?

The display updated with their names and some numbers but he went on staring, unable to understand. Was that enough? What had Georgi and Anya gotten? He couldn’t remember. He could turn and ask Yuuri, but then the display changed again to show the overall standings.

Victor stared in amazement at the scores, at the little “1” next to their name and then at Yuuri. “We…”

“Victor!” Yuuri exclaimed, throwing his arms around Victor’s neck in a tight hold. “Victor!” He clutched Victor so close he could feel Yuuri’s heart beating in his chest.

They did it! They won! Was it possible? Did they really win? It was taking a while to sink in properly. They won!

Yakov was congratulating them, but Victor didn’t understand a word he said because Yuuri chose that moment to press his lips against Victor’s in a celebratory kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day may come when I won’t throw casual references to the next bunch of fics I want to write, but that is not this day hahaha
> 
> And now for routines (they're really worth it):  
> [Tango Romantica (CD)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OQ0_sEIphqs)  
> [Farrucas (OD)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c6mge7uZbLo)  
> [Symphony No. 5 (FS)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oZG1cbrQtbQ)


	15. What Friends Don’t Do

Victory tasted like Yuuri Katsuki, as Victor discovered that day. Yuuri didn’t hold back and Victor found himself clinging on to Yuuri as if his own life depended on it and, of course, he responded in kind.

After who knew how long Yuuri broke the kiss and stared at Victor with half-closed eyes. His hands were still wrapped around Victor’s neck and his nose was mere centimeters away from Victor’s. There were no words fit to describe what Victor was feeling. He couldn’t understand it himself, but whatever it was he didn’t want it to ever stop.

“Sorry,” Yuuri whispered.

Victor insisted that there was nothing to apologize for as Yuuri released him and slid away. For the briefest of moments, Victor couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d done something wrong.

Yuuri took both of Victor’s hands with his own. “We did it,” he whispered.

The enormity of all that finally sunk in.

“We won,” Victor said in return.

The audience was still chanting their names, reminding them that, yes, they were still there and that they’d seen everything. Victor heard Yakov grumbling about something and turned to catch his coach in a tight hug. Yuuri leapt to the other side of the bench and Yakov found himself sandwiched between his two pupils.

Yakov mumbled something incomprehensible and then patted both of them on their backs.

Nothing could describe that magical feeling of standing on the podium with the Olympic gold around your neck. Victor kept one arm around Yuuri as he waved up at the big audience that cheered as if they’d won a gold medal as well. Beside him Yuuri was waving and smiling too.

Georgi and Anya ended up in second place. They’d already congratulated Victor and Yuuri on their gold medal, sounding very formal. Victor was too happy to worry about their tone of voice, or to even remember that they’d competed against each other.

Yuuri jumped off the podium first and held out his hand to take Victor’s. Victor accepted it and stepped down. Yuuri brought Victor’s hand up to his lips with an odd gleam in his eye.

The fans went wild.

Victor felt light-headed. This didn’t mean anything, he knew that. Yuuri did this kind of thing all the time.

People at the other end of the rink screamed their names. Victor offered up his arm to Yuuri and together they crossed the rink to hand out autographs to everybody who asked for one. Hands reached out and they shook every single one they could reach.

The press conference that followed was very different to the ones before it. Suddenly everyone wanted to know about their skating and their plans for the future. For some reason, the questions about their relationship were completely forgotten.

Victor leaned forward in his seat and answered as sincerely as he could, a look of pure joy on his face. Yuuri’s hand rested over his and he could feel his partner’s eyes on his face whenever he spoke.

“We’d like to do more, of course, and try different things. We’re used to taking it season by season, but I don’t think it’s unreasonable to plan to be in Sochi.” He looked at Yuuri. “Right?”

Yuuri nodded.

“We won’t be too old by then,” Victor joked. _What’s another four years?_

“What about moving back to Canada for training?” someone else asked.

“Honestly, I’m happy no matter where I am, as long as Yuuri is there with me.” He gave Yuuri another big grin. Then he realized what he’d said and laughed. “Well, I mean – I _have to_ train with Yuuri, otherwise it wouldn’t be ice dancing anymore, right?”

Yuuri put his chin in his hand. “I did end up training without you for a short time,” he reminded Victor.

Victor waved it away. “That doesn’t count.” He gave the press another happy grin as if thanking them for something. “St. Petersburg suits us both just fine.”

“But the next Olympics are in Sochi!” someone pointed out.

“The flight will be much shorter, then.” Victor’s eyes returned to Yuuri’s face. He saw that his partner’s eyelids were getting heavier and felt his own muscles ache in sympathy. “I think we’ll have to end the interview here,” he said. “Yuuri and I need some rest.” He got up and held his hands out to Yuuri.

Amazingly enough, the press let them go without an argument, as if they’d gotten everything they needed.

It felt so good to walk back together. They teased each other the whole way and laughed as if every comment was very witty.

“Alright, Olympic champion,” Yuuri said, “where should we have dinner?”

“Hmm… Where is good enough for two gold medalists?” Victor joked.

They picked something simple, but the little family diner was full of fans who crowded around them as soon as they came in and pleaded for autographs.

The two skaters posed for photos with fans as patiently as they could.

“You must be starving!” someone exclaimed.

After which the gold medalists were treated to a big hero’s dinner. The fans tried to pay for their food, but the owners insisted that it had all been on the house and wouldn’t they like another pint of beer, or maybe a glass of wine, or perhaps…

It was really late when they returned to their room, arms wrapped around each other as they tried to sing something they couldn’t remember any of the lyrics to. Both Yuuri and Victor were drunk out of their minds.

It took several tries to unlock their door and Yuuri giggled the whole time Victor struggled with the lock.

“Shh!” Victor hissed. “Everyone is sleeping!”

“Sleeping!” Yuuri sang out and then raised a finger to his lips theatrically. “Can’t wake them!” he whispered very loudly.

As soon as they finally succeeded in getting inside Yuuri put his hands around Victor’s neck with the words, “I just got a really-ly-ly good idea! You know what we should do?”

“What?” Victor asked, laughing.

Yuuri swayed on his feet, tapped Victor on the nose and passed out.

Victor caught him and carried him over to the bed where he lay him down as gently as constant swaying allowed.

 

Victor’s first sensation upon waking was that of a big splitting headache, as if someone was hitting his head with a big hammer every single second. He groaned and buried his head under a pillow, but that didn’t make the pain go away.

“Victor?” Yuuri called, placing a hand on his shoulder.

His ears took the sound and translated it into more agony. “Ugh… My head is killing me!” It hurt to talk. It hurt to think. Was this…? Did he have a hangover? “Oh god! How much did we drink last night?”

“I don’t know,” Yuuri answered. “Do you want me to call a doctor?”

What did people do when they got hangovers? Victor wasn’t sure, but he knew someone who _would_ know. But, then again, wasn’t it embarrassing to call them over something like this?

“I… uh… My parents probably know what to do…”

They were out there, somewhere, them and Auntie and Yuuri’s family. They’d all travelled all the way here to watch Victor and Yuuri compete.

Victor realized with a pang of guilt that after the medal ceremony and the press conference they’d both completely forgotten about their families.

“Does… does your head hurt?” he asked, risking a look up from under the pillow at Yuuri.

Yuuri smiled. “No. I probably drank less than you.”

“Hmmm…” Victor retreated under the pillow. He was pretty sure they’d downed every wretched glass together.

“I’ll call them!” Yuuri exclaimed. “They’ll want to celebrate with us too!”

Victor felt his stomach flip over and ran to the bathroom where he threw up what he suspected was most of his dinner.

“Victor?” Yuuri called in alarm.

“Don’t come in here!” Victor called back. “I just… just…”

After a half hour that Victor did his best to forget as quickly as possible, after drinking a lot of water and washing his face, after downing what their neighbour swore was the best medicine for hangovers, he finally felt well enough to go for what turned into a lunch with their families.

Yuuri took care of him the whole time, making Victor feel guilty for causing him so much trouble again.

“There’s so much talk about you two,” his father told them. “A reporter was interviewing me this morning! Can you believe that? I’m starting to feel like a celebrity!”

They all laughed at that.

“We’re not celebrities!” Yuuri protested gently.

As if on cue, someone screamed, “Oh my god! It’s Yuuri and Victor!” A group of teenagers ran over to their table, surrounding them as if they were some sort of attack force.

“Can we have your autograph, please?” they begged.

“Sure!” Victor said, getting up and holding his hand out to Yuuri. “Where do you want us to sign?”

“Victor” he signed on the first thing they held out to him. Yuuri added “and Yuuri” and Victor admired the end result. Their signatures looked good together. It must’ve been because his and Yuuri’s handwriting wasn’t that different that it almost looked as if one person wrote it all.

“Mine next!” someone called out.

“Victor and Yuuri” they signed over and over again.

It was some time before all the fans got the autographs and photos they wanted and everyone could return to their food.

“They’ll be inviting you to TV shows next,” Mr. Katsuki said with a laugh.

“I already got a phone call from the mayor of Ilderton,” Victor’s father admitted. “He wants to do a little parade in your honour.”

“A _parade_?” Victor and Yuuri repeated and then exchanged a surprised look.

“But… just for a gold medal?” Yuuri repeated.

“For an _Olympic_ gold medal,” Victor’s father clarified.

“But still…” Yuuri didn’t look convinced that it merited such an honour, but before he or anyone else could say anything Victor’s phone rang.

He pulled it out of his pocket and stared at the caller’s name in amazement. “Sorry, I have to take this,” he told everyone and, excusing himself from the table, slipped away to a quiet corner where he could talk undisturbed. “Hello, Chris!”

“Hello, Victor! Congratulations!” His friend’s voice sounded warm and Victor couldn’t help noticing that something about it was very comforting. “I figured you’d have finished celebrating by now.” He laughed. “Or maybe that you’d be taking a little break in the middle long enough for me to call you and have a quick chat.”

Victor smiled. He stood in one of the corners of the restaurant. At those words he turned and watched Yuuri talk to their families.

“Or is this a bad time?” Chris asked.

Victor chuckled. “No, it’s fine, really.”

“Should I be congratulating you for two things, or are you going to keep acting like you have no idea what I’m talking about?”

“What – what are you talking about?” Victor asked and bit his lip, feeling foolish.

Chris sighed like someone who was really suffering. “I think I’m not alone in assuming – once we saw that kiss – that your relationship with Yuuri is official now.”

Victor opened his mouth.

“But you’re about to tell me that the kiss wasn’t like that, aren’t you?” Chris jumped in before Victor could say anything.

“Really, Chris…” He frowned. So this was why the journalists weren’t asking about their relationship anymore!

“Well? What is your excuse this time?”

Victor sighed. “It’s just a kiss. I don’t understand why there’s such a fuss over it. Yuuri and I kiss all the time.” He considered that. “Okay, not _all_ the time, but a few times.”

“Do you really?” Chris asked with a chuckle.

“Yes, so what? We enjoy it. I’m sure there are lots of friends out there who do this kind of thing.” Victor tried to think of an example and ended up remembering about Georgi and Anya instead. Well, they didn’t count.

“Oh dear,” Chris tutted. “I didn’t realize it had gone that far.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

Chris sighed. “Then, by your logic, you’d have no problem kissing me, for example, or wouldn’t mind Yuuri kissing someone else?”

There was a long silence as Victor mulled this over. He watched Yuuri laugh at something and throw a look back at him, asking him silently to return as quickly as he could. “I don’t know,” Victor finally admitted. Why didn’t he know? It was a simple enough question, wasn’t it?

Chris chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. Besides, you don’t need to tell me once you figure it out. Just promise me one thing, alright?”

“What is it?”

Yuuri was laughing harder now. His cheeks were turning red. Victor smiled as if he could hear the joke too.

“Promise me that you’ll think about it,” Chris insisted. “Believe me when I tell you that you need to know the answer for your own good.”

“My own good? What are you talking about?” Victor asked, finally tearing his attention away from Yuuri and forcing himself to think about his conversation with Chris.

“It’s just – How do I put this? – most friends, no matter how close they are, don’t do the kind of things you two do,” Chris explained.

“We’ve been friends since we were kids, Chris.”

“Yes, I know that,” Chris said, “that’s where it gets a little complicated, I suppose.”

Victor’s attention was back on Yuuri who was throwing anxious glances his way. “I need to go.”

“Have fun celebrating! Don’t drink too much!”

 _“I have a really good idea.”_ Victor almost dropped his phone as the memory returned to him. What had Yuuri been talking about? He said his goodbyes automatically and pocketed his phone.

When he returned to the table Yuuri jumped up and pulled his chair out for him. “I was getting a little worried,” he confided in a low voice. “Is something wrong?”

“No, my friend Chris called. He just wanted to congratulate us,” Victor explained, watching Yuuri’s face closely.

Yuuri smiled in relief. “That’s very thoughtful of him!”

 _Is it possible that it’s true?_ Victor wondered. _Is that why I want to kiss you so badly right now?_ “Yeah…” Victor agreed absent-mindedly.

“Is something wrong?”

He was suddenly very aware of the fact that everyone at the table was staring at him and did his best to give everyone a look that would put them all at ease. “No, everything is fine.”

 _I want to know, no I_ need _to know what your idea was last night._ He finished eating and slid his empty plate away.

“Do you want some dessert?” Yuuri asked.

“No, I think I’m fine.” A lock of his hair fell over his eyes and he brushed it aside impatiently.

“I can tie your hair up, if you like?” Yuuri offered.

He would’ve said yes. Everything inside him said “yes”, but he was all too aware of everyone staring at him at that moment and shook his head. “It’s fine. I’m used to it being longer, remember?”

Yuuri nodded and turned away. Something in the line of his shoulders gave away how much the answer had stung him.

“I …uh…” Victor fished around in his pockets. Forget everyone watching! If there was one lesson he’d learned long ago it was to ignore everyone else’s opinion, but Yuuri’s. After all, doing what made Yuuri happy hadn’t led him astray, not even once.

“I… Actually, I forgot that I have this.” He held an elastic out to Yuuri, “so … um… if you don’t mind?” He waited for Yuuri to take it with a little nod and turned in his chair.

He had to resist the urge to close his eyes as Yuuri braided his hair.

Why did this feel so good? He thought back to his conversation with Chris. Would this have felt as good if Chris had been the one braiding his hair? No, wrong question. Would he have asked _Chris_ to braid his hair for him? Maybe. Would he have enjoyed it afterwards? Who knew?

Yuuri’s fingers trailed gently through Victor’s hair and he thought of those fingers trailing over his skin, making it tingle. Sometimes they’d rehearse a part so many times that the touch almost became meaningless, but in those first few run-throughs…

_I want to go back on the ice and skate with you. I don’t care what we skate. I just want to be alone with you._

Did it matter if he was actually in love with Yuuri, as everyone insisted he was, or not?

“I got us all tickets to watch the gold medal hockey game!” Victor’s father announced, drawing everyone’s attention to himself and bringing Victor out of his thoughts. “Should be good. What do you think?”

They all got excited over this announcement. Even Victor, who’d barely seen more than the opening ceremony and some of the figure skating competitions, couldn’t wait to watch that final game. Who would be playing? How would it go?

 

Several days later they sat in the stands, screaming with the rest of the crowd and cheering their team on.

They’d run into Jean-Jacques again (or JJ, as he insisted they call him) right before the game and finally got their chance to thank him. In response, he’d taken them to where the other Canadian figure skaters sat and made them watch the game with their teammates. They’d had to swap seats with someone else – the stands were completely packed for this last game.

As the two teams skated out onto the ice one of the figure skaters grinned at Victor. “I bet you’re enjoying these games much more than the last ones!”

“Well… yeah,” Victor agreed, wondering how there could possibly be any doubt about that. “I’m not watching them on TV in my living room!” _Does she think I was there for the last ones too, or something?_

“Here they come!”

The audience screamed.

It was a very long game, with little breaks in between, with time added at the end to break the tie. And at the very last minute, when everyone was sure the game would go to penalty shots, one of the players got the winning point.

A roar went up, deafening everyone in the crowd, but still they kept screaming. “Goal!”

Victor turned and looked at Yuuri. His eyes shone as he applauded and a smile played on his lips.

 _Oh my god, I love him!_ The thought was clear in his mind, blocking out everything else. _I really, really love him._

Yuuri turned, giving Victor his smile now, as the crowd went on screaming around them.

Slowly the crowd calmed down as the players got into position to play the last few seconds of the game. They let the game end before exploding into a second round of excited cheering. The excitement went on for a long time and even into the medal ceremony as each player stepped out and got their medal.

When it was finally all over Yuuri and Victor rose to their feet and hunted through the dense crowd for their families. It took a lot of effort and a lot of careful negotiating before they were all reunited once more.

“Let’s go celebrate!” Victor’s father offered as soon as they made it outside together.

They were _all_ there, Victor suddenly realized – parents, siblings, his great-aunt – everyone who’d held a special place in Yuuri and Victor’s lives. Something about that had to symbolic. He joined the celebrations without even thinking about the team that had won. As far as he was concerned, Victor Nikiforov was the one who’d won that day.

They didn’t have long to celebrate – the closing ceremony was scheduled for that evening and Yuuri and Victor had to prepare to be there.

Again, they partied late into the night, getting really drunk a second time and barely making it back to their room.

Only the next morning, when the world became sane and serious again, did they get some time alone. But by then Yuuri’s words about a good idea slipped out of Victor’s mind, as if he’d never said them.

“Let’s go back home for two weeks,” Yuuri said. “I mean home, _here_ , in Canada. We can keep training at the Ilderton Arena so that we’re ready to compete in Worlds.”

Victor put an arm around him. “Let’s do it,” he agreed.

 

It was so surreal – coming back home and getting the kind of welcome more suited for heroes who’d saved people’s lives than for athletes who’d won a gold medal. They were paraded down the streets. Victor waved at what he was sure was the entire population of London and the surrounding suburbs.

“I feel like the Queen,” Victor whispered, making Yuuri laugh.

But it didn’t stop there – a whole mountain of invitations came for various talk shows, late night shows, interviews and, of course, for Stars on Ice.

It felt as if the whole world had suddenly discovered them and everyone wanted to get to know them better.  They drowned in questions that ranged from simple ones everyone asked them to odd ones they’d never thought about before.

“Which is your favourite routine?”

“What is your favourite type of music? What about dance?”

“If you could change one of the skates, which would it be?”

“If you hadn’t been skaters, who would you have been?”

And so on until they both felt as if every single question in the universe had been asked.

“So this new lift is called The Goose,” one of the hosts said. “Could you show it to us now? Or do you need to go out on the ice to do that?”

“Easy.” Yuuri rose from the couch and squatted with his back to Victor.

Victor climbed on, holding on to Yuuri’s hand. He let go, raised his arms and smiled.

“Wow!” the host exclaimed, clapping his hands. “How long did it take you to come up with that?”

Victor found himself reflecting on his career in front of millions of viewers as if he’d already retired. Some of the questions treated him as if he knew a great secret that would help anyone win a gold medal at the next Olympics.

But what really made him ask himself a lot of questions was the Newlywed Game.

The host sat them down in very comfortable chairs and handed them a small white board each and a marker to write with. They did their best to look happy to be there, all too aware of the all the cameras pointed at them. At least this interview hadn’t come with an in studio audience.

“I’m going to ask you two questions,” she explained, “and I want you to write the answer down for each one. Then you’ll show them to me and we’ll talk about them. Is that alright?”

“So we can’t answer out loud?” Victor asked.

“No. The point of the game is to compare your answers to each other without you getting the chance to influence the other person’s answer.” Something about the way she spoke suggested that she’d expected them to know what she was talking about, but Victor had never heard about such a thing before.

“Oh, ok.” _Sounds fun!_

It seemed straightforward enough, but he couldn’t help but be a little nervous that he’d mess it up somehow anyway.

They got ready to write and the host sat back in her chair and looked down at her list of questions.

“What’s your partner’s favourite place in St. Petersburg, excluding your skating rink and your home?”

Victor misheard the question and wrote down his own favourite place: Tuchkov Bridge, the one near their skating rink. It had gained a special place in his heart over the past few years, even though it wasn’t all that interesting to look at.

That done, he looked at Yuuri.

Yuuri raised his eyes.

They turned their boards over and both showed the same answer.

“You both have the same favourite place?” the host asked with a surprised look on her face and then tried to read the name out loud.

“Wait,” Victor said, “Was I supposed to write the name of Yuuri’s favourite place, or mine?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Yuuri said with a big smile. “That’s my favourite place too.”

“What is it?” the host asked, reminding them that they weren’t alone. “Was it where you first kissed?”

“Oh no,” Victor shook his head. “Our first kiss was in the change room of our rink.”

Yuuri blushed a little as he nodded, but he didn’t keep his eyes lowered. He stared into Victor’s face, as if daring him to blush and look away.

“Then, the bridge…?” the host prompted.

_Oh, right._

“It’s where we go together after practice sometimes,” Yuuri explained in that serious way of his. “We have a lot of fond memories of the place. Right, Victor?”

“Yep!”

“Next question: which of you is more likely to sleep in and miss practice?”

This was an easy one. Victor erased his previous answer and put a new one in.

They caught each other’s eye and turned their boards over.

“Yuuri,” wrote Victor.

“Me” it said on Yuuri’s board.

“Not that I’d let him!” Victor piped up. “Yuuri likes to sleep in, but if he doesn’t come out of his room by the time I’m done breakfast, I’ll go wake him up myself!” Victor just couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Not at all.” The answer made Victor feel as if he was glowing inside.

“Next question,” the host went on relentlessly. “Victor’s hair – long or short?”

“Wait! Do I put what _I_ prefer?” Victor asked, “Or what Yuuri likes?”

The host considered this before answering. “What does Yuuri like? Put that in.”

Victor stared at his white board. He thought of all the compliments Yuuri had paid him. He was always sincere, Victor was sure of it, but what did he like the most?

The memory of that morning dropped on him then.

 

_“Another interview today,” Yuuri said as he cleared the table._

_Victor nodded, piling the dishes in the sink and rolling up his sleeves in preparation for washing them._

_Yuuri reached out and trailed his fingers over Victor’s hair. “Do you want me to braid it?” he whispered. He didn’t say anything about its length or it getting in Victor’s way this time. Those had all been little excuses to hide just how much Yuuri wanted to braid it, Victor was sure of it._

_“Yes, please.”_

Victor scribbled one word down and turned his board over. Too late he realized he’d turned it over early, but Yuuri was already done writing and turned over his board as soon as he saw Victor do it.

“Long” they both agreed.

“Yuuri braids my hair all the time,” Victor confessed.

“I really like it,” Yuuri admitted and his cheeks turned a little pink. “I mean – well, short hair suits you too, but I can’t do anything with short hair.”

Victor put an arm around Yuuri. “I guess I better have long hair for the rest of my life!”

They laughed together at this.

The host glanced at her stack of questions and put them away. By the looks of it, she didn’t have the heart to ask them anything else.

They’d gotten all the answers because they’d spent so much time together, right? Of course you’d know so much about someone you’d spent most of your life with!

By the middle of the spring, with only few days left until Worlds, he was sure that was it. _It’s just everyone wishing we were in love. People like to see a love story in everything they watch and, besides, that’s what we always skate anyway, so they think we’re convincing. It’s like Yuuri said: when actors play a couple well enough you start to think that they should be together. I shouldn’t let someone else’s wishes confuse me. What’s important is what I feel. We’re just really close. That’s all it is. It’s not love._

That spring the figure skating world learned that next season they’d have to cope with another big change – the ISU decided to do away with the compulsory and original dance segments, replacing them both with what they called the short program. This meant that instead of three skates, everything would now depend on two.

“That’s great!” Yuuri exclaimed. “We won’t have to worry about the compulsory and the original dance practices being back to back anymore.”

Victor pulled Yuuri out onto the ice. His shins weren’t giving him trouble anymore, but he worried that pointing it out would jinx them. Instead he laughed and joked and picked Yuuri up. They spun around on the ice together, giggling with their foreheads pressed together.

Several days later they won their first World title. More than that, feeling up to a little challenge, they’d brought back the golden waltz skate and won with it.

Victor stood on the podium and whispered to Yuuri that the audience was happier about their Olympic gold medal more than their gold at Worlds.

Yuuri giggled and elbowed him lightly.

 

In the middle of July they decided to go on two separate trips from each other. Victor would go with Chris and his group of friends to Switzerland while Yuuri would go visit Phichit in Moscow.

“Maybe we should go together to both places,” Yuuri said one evening over dinner. “We can find a hotel, or something so that Phichit and Chris don’t need to find room for both of us.”

“Sometimes it’s good to be apart for a little while,” Auntie cut in. “You two are always together. Most married couples spend many hours apart every day when they go to work.”

“We’re not married, Auntie,” Victor pointed out. “But it makes sense for us to do this – this way we’re not losing a lot of practice time for next season.”

“You’ve already won the Olympic gold and you’re finally World Champions,” Aunt Alla said. “What are you fighting for now?”

Victor and Yuuri exchanged a look.

“We want to win gold at the Grand Prix Final,” Victor answered.

She laughed. “Yes, of course! How could I forget?” Alla rose to her feet, walked around, kissed Victor on the top of his head and then kissed Yuuri on the top of his head too. “Well, if it’s causing you so much worry, you can go together, but I think there’s nothing wrong with spending a few days apart from each other.”

This was why, several days later, they were saying goodbye to each other at the station.

“Take care of yourself,” Yuuri said, resting his hands on Victor’s shoulders. “It’s only for four days, so I’ll see you soon, right? Before either of us really gets a chance to start missing each other?” He looked close to tears and Victor wondered why they’d decided to split up if it was causing them both so much pain.

“I’ll miss you every minute,” Victor promised, his arms wrapped around Yuuri’s waist. “Every minute of every day.”

Yuuri laughed, but there was no mirth in it. There were even tears in his eyes now.

“Can you kiss me again, please?” Victor asked. “For good luck?”

“Alright.”

They forgot where they were and poured a lot of emotion into that kiss. It was full of so many things that went unsaid that Victor wondered if it told Yuuri about everything that went on in his heart and if Yuuri understood.

What an odd question! Of course Yuuri understood! He was the only person in the world who could understand Victor, he was sure of it.

They pulled apart and held each other’s hands.

“Text me.”

Yuuri nodded. “I will,” he promised. “And you must let me know once you’ve landed in Zurich.”

Victor walked Yuuri to his train and helped him get his stuff inside his compartment. It was still empty when they came in. Victor crouched down and put the suitcase under the lower bunk.

“Thank you.”

He turned around and watched Yuuri throw a cautious look in both directions before he placed his hands on Victor’s shoulders and gave him a second kiss. This one was much briefer than the first.

Yuuri pulled away, but Victor placed his hands over Yuuri’s. “Someone will be here soon to kick you out,” Yuuri whispered.

“I know,” Victor whispered back. “You’ll text me every day, right?”

“Of course.” Yuuri pressed his nose against Victor’s.

He closed his eyes and forgot Yuuri was leaving. For a moment he imagined they were back on the ice, skating something together. It didn’t matter what – anything.

With a great deal of effort he opened his eyes and wrenched himself away, rising to his feet and keeping his face in a smile. He held Yuuri’s hand until he reached the door to the carriage where he bit his lip and released Yuuri’s fingers.

After that it was easier to step out onto the platform, raise his hand and wave.

Yuuri stood at a window and waved back.

“All my best to Phichit!” Victor called out. “He better look after you properly!”

Yuuri laughed. “The same to Chris!”

 

Chris met Victor at the airport in Zurich and the first words out of his mouth after the hello were, “I can’t believe I was so stupid to miss the obvious! I should’ve insisted that Yuuri come here with his friend… What was his name, again?”

“Phichit,” Victor answered absently. “It’s fine. There’s nothing wrong with being apart for a little while. It’s a good idea, even.” He did his best to smile.

Chris gave him a look that suggested that he wasn’t convinced. “Are you just repeating what someone said, or do you actually mean that?”

“Aunt Alla said that, but, really, you have to admit that she has a point.”

“Well, if you’re sure…” But Chris was still frowning.

Victor did his best to change the subject. He’d been with Yuuri for almost every minute over the past few months, even when they weren’t talking properly to each other they still stayed close. Saying goodbye had been much more painful than he’d imagined it would be.

He remembered Yuuri as he’d seen him in that last moment – waving through the window as the train pulled out of sight.

“Alright,” Chris cut into his thoughts, “I didn’t drag you out all this way to mope around and cry about Yuuri. Are we going to have fun, or what?” He put his arm around Victor and led him to the exit.

“Have fun,” Victor said in a tone that suggested the opposite.

 

Chris was celebrating several things – his upcoming senior debut, his friend’s Olympic gold – and he was enjoying his chance to show Victor around Zurich a little bit.

They took hundreds of photos, laughed at nearly everything and, after a tour of Zurich’s top attractions (as decided by travel expert Christophe Giacometti himself), ended up at a nightclub where Chris did his best to outdrink his friend.

A mad amount of drinks later, Chris watched Victor climb onto the table and dance like only a man out of his mind could. It was enough to make a man cry.

It was glaringly obvious just how much Victor missed Yuuri even now, even drunk out of his mind and barely aware of who or where he was: he was doing a drunken rendition of _Farrucas_ , trying to persuade one of the performers in the club to be his dance partner.

 

In Moscow, at the same moment (despite the time difference) Phichit was watching Yuuri do the exact same thing.

The Moscow nightlife was wild, but it had met its match in drunk Yuuri Katsuki, who could do everything and wasn’t embarrassed of anything.

Phichit was impressed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen anyone dance so well after that much alcohol. Actually, now that he thought about it, he’d _never_ seen anyone dance so well after that much alcohol.

He recorded every minute, of course, prepared to post it all online as soon as he got home.

To his surprise, Yuuri managed to keep this up for several hours until the club turned all the music and most of the lights off and all the performers went home.

“We were just getting started!” Yuuri protested. “What kind of club is this?”

“Go home!” someone shouted at him. “Or I’ll help you get there!”

“I don’t need your help! I can get there on my own!” Yuuri swayed on his feet and Phichit caught him before the shy Olympic gold medalist went off and got into a fight with a bouncer three times his size.

To Phichit’s great luck, he wasn’t alone and his friends were sober enough to help carry Yuuri to his apartment.

 

Ten hours later Phichit was having a really late breakfast with Yuuri in his kitchen and browsing the Internet on his phone when something caught his eye. “No way!”

“What is it?” Yuuri asked.

Phichit raised his eyes and took in the innocent expression on Yuuri’s face. There wasn’t a single hint of the wild drunk who’d nearly gotten into a fight. He wondered briefly if the person before him now and the one from the night before were two different people “Look! Victor was doing the exact same thing you were last night!” He held out his phone to show off a video of Victor, dancing on a table and, by the looks of it, as drunk as Yuuri had been the night before.

“What are you talking about?” Yuuri asked. “I wasn’t dancing last night.”

“What would you call it, then?” Phichit asked with a chuckle. He played the video he’d uploaded. “I’d say they match quite well.”

“Oh my god!” Yuuri exclaimed, his face turned bright red. “I didn’t… Did I do that?”

“You mean you don’t remember?”

Yuuri gave him a mortified look. “All I remember is drinking and… nothing after that,” he whispered with the expression of someone staring into a bottomless abyss. “Oh god!”

Phichit watched the recording in silence for several seconds. “Is that… _Farrucas_?”

“I think so,” Yuuri said, all horror temporarily forgotten. He leaned closer and watched the recording of himself for several seconds. “ _That’s_ definitely from _Farrucas_.”

Phichit switched to the video of Victor. “He’s dancing _Farrucas_ too.”

There was a fond smile on Yuuri’s face as he took the phone out of Phichit’s hands for a closer look. “Is it really that surprising?” he whispered.

What could Phichit say to that? Was he expected to say anything anyway?

He could already see the comments would make online. He could imagine the explosion that would follow once someone pointed out that they were both dancing the same thing, even while many kilometers apart.

 _Just get married already!_ he thought and grinned. “You’ll invite me to your wedding, right?”

Yuuri gave him a surprised look. “I’m not getting married!” he protested.

“Not _yet_ ,” Phichit agreed. “But when you do, you’ll invite me, okay?”

“Of course!” Yuuri promised. He returned Phichit’s phone and rose to his feet. “Where do you want to go next?”

Phichit stared up at him in amazement. What was going through Yuuri’s mind now? Would he ever know or understand? Didn’t he want to sit around and talk about Victor? Didn’t he want to go on for hours about all the things he liked about his partner and then finally admit that, yes, what everyone was saying – no, screaming at the top of their voices – was true: he was in love with Victor just as Victor was very obviously in love with him.

Maybe all of that could wait, Phichit thought.

“You took the words right out of my mouth!” he exclaimed, getting up. “Let’s go do something fun!”

 

Three days of fun later Victor returned from his trip to Switzerland. He walked out in Pulkovo Airport, searching the crowd with his eyes for a familiar face.

Yuuri pushed through a dense group, apologized a few times and ran straight for Victor. He ran too, his little suitcase on wheels rattling behind him.

They met halfway and Yuuri caught hold of Victor and held on as tightly as he could, burying his face in Victor’s shoulder. Victor rubbed his back affectionately.

“I missed you,” Yuuri whispered.

“I missed you more!”

Yuuri raised Victor with a smile. “What makes you say that?”

Victor laughed. What could be better than this? What could compare to being with Yuuri day after day, knowing Yuuri felt the same? Maybe it was worth being apart and suffering for a few days for all the joy this moment brought with it?

Their foreheads touched and his heart sang.

Only when Yuuri set him down did Victor become aware of the chanting around them. He turned and realized that the big crowd wasn’t the typical one you got in airports. It was completely made up of fans – fans waving big posters over their heads and shouting their names, fans in T-shirts with their pictures on them and – yes, of course – fans recording every minute of their reunion for a chance to show someone or to just re-watch later.

“ _Farrucas_!” someone shouted and they all joined in.

Victor looked at Yuuri, wondering if he knew what it meant. He watched his partner blush and then give him a look that told Victor that he was prepared to dance flamenco right then and there.

Victor’s heart flipped over in his chest. Right now, he wanted to kiss Yuuri more than anything else, but, with everyone watching, he knew he had to do what the fans wanted. The thought had come on its own and, for some reason, he didn’t even question it.

So he let Yuuri circle him dangerously close, following him with his eyes as they both stomped their feet to the beat.

A group of people pulled out their phones and played the melody to help them along and they danced. They danced as if nothing else mattered and nothing else existed in the world. More than that, they danced as if the dance itself controlled them.

Yuuri’s bare arms rose up over his head while Victor kept his own lowered and bent, mirroring the position of Yuuri’s.

They went on stomping their feet and snapping their fingers to the beat even with the music playing for them and they stuck to a small square of the floor.

And when the music ended they stopped moving, only daring to breathe, eyes locked on eyes.

They hadn’t broken eye contact even once throughout the whole dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was supposed to post this yesterday, but all the holiday planning and cleaning up after celebrations takes a lot more time than I thought!
> 
> I also hope people will forgive me for putting a bunch of interviews from Tessa and Scott’s later years into this year.
> 
> PS I'm doing my best to keep the G rating on this fic, but if I slide into the T rating someone please let me know and I'll change it!


	16. Sochi Olympics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to start this chapter by saying that it’s probably the chapter that’s the furthest removed from the events that it’s very loosely based on. I’m taking lots and lots of artistic license this time around. No offence is meant.

Three and a half years went by in the blink of an eye. There were days when Victor was sure he was in love with Yuuri and days when he doubted it, becoming convinced that what they had was nothing more than a really close friendship.

Still Chris’ words continued to haunt him. It didn’t help that he couldn’t find two other friends who were as close as him and Yuuri. They were all seeing what they wanted to see, he told himself time and again.

The next day he’d wake up convinced that Yuuri was the love of his life and that – like in all those movies they’d watched together – he should go declare his feelings for the whole world to see.

But doubt crept in again and held him in place.

What if he wasn’t sure? What then? What if he and Yuuri decided to get married only for Victor to discover a few years later that it hadn’t been love, not _that kind_ of love and then he’d fall in love with someone else and…

He had to be sure, he told himself time and again, but, until he was, this – what they had together with Yuuri, whatever it was called – was good. It was enough and it made him happy.

 

Before the Olympic season started they were approached by a few people from the Figure Skating Federation of Russia who talked to them for a long time about representing Russia for that season. The talks were led very carefully and Victor couldn’t help feeling that they weren’t there to persuade them as much as they were trying to get a feel for what they thought of the idea.

“These Olympic Games are very important,” one of them said.

“I understand,” Victor said, “but Yuuri and I will continue to represent our country.”

They didn’t push the matter further, merely got up and left with a polite goodbye and wishing the two skaters all the best in their upcoming competitions.

 

Yakov was facing a lot of pressures as well, but, oddly enough, the coach never let on and acted as if nothing had changed and this was just another skating season. He continued to distribute his time as evenly as he could between all his pupils.

There was a kind of stubbornness about the man and Victor respected him for it.

Unfortunately, not all of their rink mates followed Yakov’s example. Some acted as if they didn’t care who represented which country, while others got really worked up about it.

One evening a bunch of them circled Yuuri and Victor in the change room.

“Why can’t you represent Russia?” one of them demanded. “I’m sure people will understand. You’ve been training here for so many years! Think of it as a kind of thank you for the country that gave you so much. It’s not like you really have ties with Canada. You already have Russian citizenship!”

“We only got it to make the move easier,” Victor said, forcing his voice to stay calm and steady. He could feel his hands tightening into fists. “They’re still sponsoring us.”

“But think how great it will be – you can represent your country as its hosting the Games not once, but twice! How many athletes get to do that?” the skater pressed on. “And if you win gold…”

Yuuri took Victor’s hand and Victor realized he was shaking. “Please don’t talk about this anymore,” Yuuri said calmly. “We made our choice and we won’t change it now.”

“Why not?” the skater insisted. “Everyone expects you two to win gold and then there’s the team event –”

The sound of someone opening the door made everyone turn and stare as Georgi walked into the change room.

The Olympics that year would see the introduction of the team event in figure skating. As soon as figure skating was changed from three to two segments the ISU decided that there would be time for a team event at the Olympic Games. Countries would pick athletes to represent them in each of the disciplines (ice dancing, pair skating, men’s singles and women’s singles) and have them compete as a team, accumulating points based on their standings in the short dance and then in the free skate.

“Are you guys arguing in here?” Georgi asked. “I heard raised voices.”

“It’s nothing,” Yuuri lied and everyone agreed with him.

A long tense silence followed those words.

How had the once welcoming (even if very competitive) atmosphere of the rink turned into a hostile one?

Georgi changed with the air of someone completely unaware of his surroundings and left the change room before everyone else was finished.

The skater from before walked over to Yuuri and Victor with a nasty smirk on his lips. “Just you wait until _Gosha_ gets some time to think about all this,” he almost spat the diminutive for Georgi’s name, “he’ll come crawling to you two on his knees, begging you to take his and Anya’s place in the team.”

Victor got his jacket and held his hand out to Yuuri. They walked out without saying a word.

They ran into Georgi at the doors leading out of the rink. He was contemplating the view outside with a horrified look on his face, as if he expected that any minute now a monster would jump out and attack him.

“Georgi?” Yuuri said softly.

He turned to face them, the look of horror still there on his face. “Anya went home,” he said. “I didn’t have the heart to go with her.”

Yuuri and Victor didn’t need to look at each other to know that the last words they’d heard in the change room were ringing in their ears now.

“We can take you home, if you want,” Victor offered.

Georgi didn’t live far, as both skaters had learned a few years ago when he’d invited them over along with all their rink mates to his and Anya’s housewarming party. They’d finally moved in together as everyone had expected they would.

He shook his head at Victor’s suggestion. “No, I… I don’t really want to… Can I come with you two for a little bit?”

“Of course you can,” Yuuri said. He threw a quick glance at Victor. “Auntie loves more company.”

Victor nodded.

The three of them descended into the subway station and caught a train home.

Yuuri stood next to Victor, his arm wrapped around his partner’s, the way it always was.

These days they rarely ever talked about anything on their way home. They’d had the conversation about which country they’d represent all the way back when they’d decided to aim for the Sochi Olympics and knew without a doubt that their opinions had remained unchanged.

Victor saw Georgi lower his head and searched around for a topic to distract him with. “Have you seen that new movie?” he nodded at the poster on the wall.

Georgi gave it a mournful look. “No. Is it good?”

“No idea,” Victor confessed.

“It’s garbage,” one of the passengers cut in, leaning forward and lowering his voice. “Don’t waste your time on that crap! You know what you _should_ see?”

All three skaters listened with interest, doing their best to ignore their other thoughts as if suddenly watching a good movie was the most important thing in the world.

They let the passenger chatter on until they got to their stop and then apologized for having to go.

“I didn’t know you lived here,” Georgi said, following them up the stairs and looking around. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in this part of St. Petersburg. Not these streets, I mean.”

“There’s not much to see here,” Victor admitted.

“I don’t know why, I always imagined you two lived on Nevsky Prospekt,” Georgi admitted, referring to St. Petersburg’s main street.

Victor watched Yuuri smile at this. “It’s really nice there, but I like it here too. Maybe because I grew up in a small city living in a big one was very overwhelming at first. I think moving here made it easier for me to adjust.”

“It’s nice here too,” Georgi agreed, following Yuuri and Victor through a network of small streets all built up with apartment buildings. Victor stepped ahead to lead the way, but Yuuri caught up with him and walked along his side.

They remained silent the rest of the way to Auntie’s apartment.

There was a brief pause at the door as Victor searched his pockets for his keys and wondered how his aunt will react to an unannounced guest. But it was too late to change his mind now, so he unlocked the door and came in.

“Auntie, we’re home!”

She walked out to meet them and one glance was enough to see that something was wrong.

“What’s wrong, Auntie?” he asked, taking her hand.

“Hello, Viten’ka! Hello, Yurochka!” She kissed them both on their cheeks and then spotted the third person who’d come in with them. She paused uncertainly.

“This is Georgi,” Yuuri explained. “He trains with us.”

“Yes, of course!” She smiled in recognition and kissed Georgi on the cheek too, startling him. “You and Anya always give my boys such a hard time!”

He nodded, looking embarrassed. “Sorry.” He threw a glance at Yuuri and Victor. “I think they give me a harder time, really…” Then, remembering his manners he looked back at the aunt. “Hello, it’s nice to meet you!”

There was a twinkle in her eye at that.

“Are you alright, Auntie?” Victor asked.

“Just a little pain in my chest,” she said. “I stood up too fast. It happens when you get as old as me. Don’t you worry about me.” She waved their concern aside and studied Georgi with a thoughtful look.

Victor and Yuuri coaxed her into sitting down in the living room, despite all her protests of having a guest over, and then sat Georgi down next to her. They told her not to worry and promised to take care of everything.

As they made dinner and set the table Victor wondered what his aunt thought about bringing their biggest figure skating rival over for food. In the last couple of years of competitions they’d alternated with Georgi and Anya for the title of World Champions. Despite what anyone else said, they both had equal chances of getting gold at the next Olympic Games.

To Georgi’s surprise, Aunt Alla questioned him thoroughly about his figure skating career with Anya. She wanted to know all about them, she said, but by the time they started to eat dinner Georgi had warmed up to her and she – to him.

After dinner all three skaters gathered in the kitchen and washed the dishes together as Auntie complained loudly that no one was letting her do anything anymore.

“Thank you for dinner,” Georgi said once they finished. “I need to go home now. I’ll see you both at practice tomorrow.”

“Auntie,” Victor said, poking his head out of the kitchen, “Yuuri and I are going to walk Georgi back to the station. We’ll be back soon.”

“Alright,” she said. “It was nice to see you, Georgi.”

He walked over to her and stood like a little child about to be told off by an adult.

She gave him a stern look, “Get home safe, alright? Say hello to Anya from me.” Her face spread in a smile. “The two of you are always welcome here.”

“Thank you.”

They walked him back to the station, making general remarks about the weather just to have something to talk about. All three of them agreed that, yes, the weather was very nice and that they weren’t sure what they promised for tomorrow’s weather.

Georgi stopped at the entrance, threw them one last glance and disappeared behind one of the doors leading to the station.

Yuuri took Victor’s hand and they walked back together. This time they remained silent the whole way.

“You have a great friend,” the aunt told them as soon as they got back. She was ironing clothes on a board she’d set up while they were gone. “I hope you bring him over again,” she said, sliding the iron slowly over one of Victor’s shirts. “Now it’s bedtime for both of you.”

They laughed, but neither of them bothered to point out that people over twenty don’t have a bedtime.

The next day Georgi came over again. And the day after that. And the next day too. He brought Anya over with him once and then invited Yuuri and Victor to visit them in return.

As Victor and Yuuri sat in Georgi’s living room, it occurred to Victor that in all their years as rink mates and rivals they didn’t get a chance to truly get to know each other.

One evening the four of them were out on a walk together after another long practice session. Anya and Yuuri fell into a conversation together, leaving Victor and Georgi to talk to each other.

Realizing that Yuuri and Anya were no longer walking with them, Victor stopped and turned to find them both standing halfway up the bridge they’d just crossed, admiring the view. The wind played with the folds of Yuuri’s shirt as he leaned against the railing and said something just beyond the range of Victor’s hearing.

“You know, I always looked up to you two,” Georgi confessed without any warning.

“What?” Victor turned back around and stared at him in amazement. Those were the last words he’d expected to hear at a time like this.

“Is it really that surprising?” Georgi asked. “What you and Yuuri have goes beyond figure skating. I’m sure most skaters would agree with me. You two have the kind of bond I’ve never seen between any two people.” Was it Victor’s imagination or were there actual tears in Georgi’s eyes? The skater joined his hands as he spoke, as if he was talking about something almost holy. “I think lots of people want what the two of you have.”

Victor stared with his mouth partially open, unable to think of a single thing to say.

“I still don’t understand how you did it, how you keep doing it,” Georgi went on. “How do you deal with everything? When you know how much people are expecting from you, when there’s all that responsibility of upholding your country’s honour? How do you keep from collapsing under all of that?”

“We don’t really think of it like that,” Victor admitted. “We mostly think in terms of winning. I ask myself what can we do to beat the others… which quite often is you and Anya, actually.”

 “There’s just… so much pressure…” Georgi had a horrified expression on his face as he said those words. “How do you not break down? I have people calling and texting me at all hours of the day going “don’t screw this up, Georgi”. I don’t know if my programs are good enough anymore, or if our costumes need to be changed…” He pulled his hands through his hair and made a frustrated noise.

Victor remained silent.

“You have great programs,” Yuuri cut in. He and Anya had caught up with them while Georgi spoke. He put a hand on Victor’s arm, flashing him a brief smile before looking back at Georgi. “I’m always nervous before a competition. The first few years we competed I was sick in the bathroom before it was our turn to go out on the ice. One time I was even sick after we won gold.”

“Really?” Anya asked.

Yuuri nodded. “Victor is the confident one.” He met Victor’s eye as he went on, “He’s the one who motivates me to keep going.”

Victor pulled Yuuri close. “I think as long as you support each other,” he said to Georgi and Anya, “you can get through anything.”

They exchanged a look.

“I doubt we’ll ever have what you two do, though,” Georgi murmured.

Anya shot him a look that Victor didn’t understand and then her face had a big smile on it again. “You know what we should do? We need to go on a double date!”

Victor opened his mouth to point out for the hundredth time that he and Yuuri weren’t dating and then closed it again. What was the use? No one listened to them anyway.

“What should we do?” Georgi asked.

“We can go see a movie,” she suggested. “Let’s go watch something really romantic!”

Victor threw a careful look at Yuuri and wondered what he thought of the idea. Yuuri agreed with a smile, so Victor didn’t argue.

 

They dressed up nicely for the date. Both Victor and Yuuri took a long time to get ready especially since they took turns calling Auntie over to ask for her help. She laughed as she handed out her advice, adjusted shirts and fixed their hair.

Finally when there was no more time left, they met up in the living room and studied each other’s appearance with interest. Victor blushed under Yuuri’s open and honest stare.

“I’ve never done this before,” Victor stammered out, forgetting for a moment that Yuuri had been with him his whole life and knew that already. “I hope this is alright?” He stared down at the sleeves of his dress shirt and fidgeted.

Yuuri was in a loose top that opened up to show off his collarbone. “I think it’s really nice,” he said with a blush.

“You look great too!” Victor exclaimed and turned deep red.

“Th-thank you.”

An awkward silence followed those words, begging to be strangled.

“Um… Shall we?” He held out his arm and Yuuri took it.

“Have fun, boys!” Auntie said, walking them to the door and then bursting out into laughter as soon as they realized they had to let each other go so they could put their shoes on.

They met Georgi and Anya in front of the movie theatre.

“You both look so nice!” Anya exclaimed and actually clapped her hands. “Let’s take a photo together!”

She held out her phone and they smiled for the camera. Georgi put an arm around her and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Yuuri and Victor waited for her to press the button.

Anya frowned. “Come on, you two! Don’t just stand there! Haven’t you ever taken selfies together before? I mean selfies as a couple?”

Under her instructions, Victor moved to stand right behind Yuuri. He caught Yuuri in a hug from behind while Yuuri turned his head to give Victor a kiss on the cheek.

“Three! Two! One!” Anya snapped the photo and they all crowded around her for a look.

“Look at that! You’re both blushing! That’s so cute!” She laughed and posted the photo online. “Now we can go watch that movie.”

Victor felt his cheeks continue to burn as he and Yuuri stepped inside the theatre, bought their tickets and debated what food to get and even when they grabbed seats in the back row and the movie began Victor was sure he was still blushing.

Yuuri held on to Victor’s hand and, despite all their time together, it was still the most wonderful thing in the world. His heart beat fast against his ribs as he did his best to focus on the movie.

Anya had picked well – the movie was a cute love story that consisted of one innocent date after the next until, as if unable to stand it any longer, the two main characters kissed, pressing their lips soundlessly together and shutting their eyes.

 _That’s a bit like my first kiss with Yuuri!_ Victor thought.

Sure it was a kiss between two girls in bright summer dresses, exchanged in the rays of a scorching sun, but something felt familiar about it and Victor could suddenly recall with perfect clarity every sensation he’d felt during his first kiss.

A loud sound made him turn his head and he saw Georgi and Anya kissing passionately right next to them, having probably decided to experience for themselves what the main two characters in the movie were feeling at that moment.

Victor’s hand felt very warm in Yuuri’s.

“Should we be doing that too?” Yuuri asked Victor in the most innocent tone imaginable.

He was very aware of how close Yuuri was, that his neck was really bare and that he smelt of something really nice.

“Um… Do you want to?” Victor asked, feeling very stupid.

Instead of an answer Yuuri pressed his lips softly against Victor’s.

He didn’t get to see the rest of the movie after that, but maybe that wasn’t the point. After Yuuri pulled away Victor caught him again. Yuuri’s hands trailed up Victor’s back as Victor’s heart raced on, as if it was in some sort of race.

 _We should do this again,_ Victor suddenly thought.

They walked out of the theatre hand in hand, letting Georgi and Anya lead the way to their favourite ice cream parlour.

All four skaters stayed out until late in the evening, walking down the streets and admiring the way the night sky reflected in the waters of the Neva River.

When they finally returned home Aunt Alla greeted them both with a big smile on her face. “Well? How did it go?”

Victor resisted the urge to point out that it hadn’t been an exam, but a date. He glanced at Yuuri. Did it count as a date, if they weren’t dating?

But Yuuri was smiling as if it was just another day for the two of them. “We had lots of fun, Auntie!”

She laughed. “Good movie, was it?”

Yuuri blushed and looked at Victor. “I… uh… I missed the ending.”

“Me too,” he confessed and lowered his eyes.

His aunt could see straight through them, he was sure of it. He’d never been any good at hiding his feelings from his aunt. He could act in front of others and smile through the pain for the audience and the judges, but he couldn’t lie to his aunt.

She laughed. “Sounds like you had a good date, then! Go wash your hands. Dinner is on the table.”

 

They put together their routines for that season and were doing regular run-throughs now. They’d worked their way back to a rigorous training schedule over the years, but still they made time for meeting with Georgi and Anya.

More double dates followed. Social media filled up with photos of Victor and Yuuri out on a date. Anya got some of them and others were posted by fans who seemed to be playing “spot Yuuri and Victor on their date”.

It was impossible to talk to Chris and Victor went along with it all, unsure himself if it counted as actual dating, or if something needed to be said before it could all be called that.

Yuuri said nothing and it only worried Victor more with each passing day. They talked about everything. Why not this?

_I should just confess. I love him, don’t I?_

Still he couldn’t say for certain. He’d never been as close to anyone else as he was with Yuuri, yes, but was it right to call it love?

Something happened then that finally put his doubts to rest.

 

“I think we should retire after this season,” Yuuri announced one morning over breakfast. “I really like skating with you, but I don’t want to compete anymore.” He lowered his head. “It’s not as fun as it used to be.”

Victor understood what he meant. It wasn’t the pressures, or getting tired of it all. It was the atmosphere at the rink. It was the way some of their rink mates looked at them when they went out onto the ice. It was the tension in Yakov’s shoulders and the way his voice shook when he barked out instructions as if all the fights were starting to tear him apart from the inside.

Yuuri didn’t like to see others suffer because of him and Victor felt the same.

“Maybe it’s time to move on and find a different coach,” Victor suggested softly.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” Yuuri admitted. “I don’t want to put Yakov through more trouble. People will assume he did something wrong and he’ll get asked a million questions. Let’s just retire.” He hunched his shoulders and gave his plate a miserable look. “We can do some ice shows together.”

“You’re right,” Victor agreed and did his best to smile brightly. “We need a break. We can always return a few years later.”

“I don’t think we’ll return,” Yuuri said solemnly. “I’m not sure I can do that.”

Victor didn’t argue. Here they were – talking calmly about retirement when just a year ago Victor had assumed they had another four years ahead of them at least. He’d even entertained the mad hope of competing at a third Olympics.

But Yuuri looked drained. Victor didn’t need to look at him to feel it.

“We’ll miss Worlds this year too,” he offered. “Just work our way to the Olympics and focus on that gold medal. Plus there’s that team event too.”

Yuuri nodded with a smile. “Thank you, Victor. I knew you’d understand.” He placed a hand over Victor’s. “Let’s give it our all this season.”

It was easier said than done and, yet again, the Grand Prix Final gold slipped away from them.

At the press conference that followed they announced their intention to retire after the Olympic Games.

“Why are you retiring so soon?” one of the journalists asked.

“It was our mutual decision,” Victor answered, knowing the words explained nothing and wishing he had something better to say.

They tried to get the reason out of them, but Victor remained firm. It was what they’d decided together. They didn’t want to comment further on their decision. It was one made for personal reasons.

Victor listened to Yuuri talk about their plans after retirement and a horrified kind of realization dawned on him.

This was it. No more competitions. No more putting programs together, or listening to different music to find that perfect piece that inspired them. No more coming up with new elements or digging through the rulebook to figure what they could or couldn’t do. No more medals. No more standing on the podium with Yuuri, posing for pictures with their hard-earned medals hanging from their necks.

And it hit him right there and then again, but with greater force this time, making his heart tremble. He felt a pain in his chest several times worse than the one he’d once felt in his shins.

_I love him and I don’t ever want this to end._

But Yuuri had decided and there was no changing his mind now.

So Victor kept smiling politely and acted like nothing was wrong, like he’d learned to do when he needed to hide the pain from the world, but, most importantly, from the judges.

He wanted time to slow down so he could enjoy these last few competitions with Yuuri, but time marched on without mercy. Before he knew it, the Nationals were behind them and then – even the Four Continents. There was no more time left until the Olympic Games.

 

There was another 30 minutes until the taxi came and took them away to the airport and their flight to Sochi where Yuuri and Victor planned to meet their families. Victor zipped up his suitcase and dragged it out of his room.

“Do you need any help…” He froze in the doorway.

Aunt Alla lay on the couch in the living room. Yuuri leaned over her with a terrified look on his face. He adjusted the pillow under her bed and she gave him a weak smile.

“Really, I’m fine, thank you, dear Yurochka.” She stroked his arm.

“Are you sure? Do you want something? Maybe tea? Or water?” he offered.

Victor crossed the room in several quick strides. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” she reassured him. “Just… I had this sudden pain, but it’s gone now. It’s not serious. I’ll be fine. Don’t you two worry. You have your competition to think about!”

“Auntie,” Victor said, lowering himself to his knees at the sofa, “be honest with me, please. Should I call an ambulance?”

She shook her head. “I’ll be fine. I just get these pains sometimes. Then they go away. I’m not as young as I used to be.” She stroked Victor’s head and then Yuuri’s. “You need to go. Sadly, I can’t go with you this time. I’ll call your mother and tell her to cheer for you in my place.”

“Auntie, we can’t leave you like this!” Yuuri protested. “What if something happens to you?”

“What’s going to happen to me?” She laughed. “I’m barely 80 years old! My mother lived until she was 92! I’ll be just fine.”

But Yuuri and Victor refused to trust her words. Under the pretext of making tea, they slipped away into the kitchen where they had a long whispered conversation. Victor tried to remember what other family he had in St. Petersburg, failed and finally caved in and called his parents.

His aunt went on protesting that they shouldn’t worry, but several phone calls later, after terrifying his mother and almost having a fight with his father, Victor managed to get through to someone who lived nearby who agreed to come and look after his aunt.

Both skaters refused to leave the apartment until this relative came.

“You’re going to be late for your flight!” Auntie protested. “I’ll call you when she comes! Go!”

No matter how much they argued, she refused to listen to a word they said. In the end they were saved by the relative arriving.

“Come here, both of you!” Auntie called.

They leaned over her to plant a kiss on each of her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around them. “Go win that gold medal and when you come back I want to hear all about it!”

“Okay, Auntie!”

She waved at them both from the couch, watching them go. Each of them carried their own suitcase down the stairs. They then took turns placing it in the trunk of the car.

Yuuri stopped in front of the door to the car and stared up at their windows. Victor raised his head as well.

Whenever they left for any competition Aunt Alla would always lean out of the window and wave at them, wishing them luck. The only times she came with them was when they competed in Russia and for the Olympic Games. She’d told them that she didn’t want to miss their last competition and had made all the arrangements to travel with them to Sochi.

There was no one in the window now.

A chill went up in Victor’s chest. He turned away and opened the door for Yuuri, eager to leave faster, hoping it would help him return faster as well.

The whole way to the airport he had to resist the urge to tell the taxi driver to turn around and take them back. A quick glance at Yuuri told him that a similar thought was going through his mind as well.

_We’ll be back soon, Auntie. I promise._

 

The atmosphere at the Sochi Olympics was completely different from the one at the previous Games. Four years ago they carried their country’s flag at home with pride. Now he felt like a foreigner for the first time in a very long while. More than that, there was something sad about the opening ceremony in Sochi.

The people applying all the pressures got their way in the end: Yakov walked with those of his pupils who would represent Russia. In return, he’d asked Lilia to march with Victor and Yuuri.

To the skaters’ great surprise, she came dressed in a Canadian uniform with her hair falling in long locks around her face. Victor realized with a shock that she was beautiful and wondered how it had never occurred to him before.

Lilia marched right at their side the whole time and waved as much as they did to the gathered crowd.

Was it really alright for her to do this? Wouldn’t she get in trouble for marching with athletes from a different country? Wouldn’t those same people who’d forced Yakov to do something against his will give her a hard time?

She caught him looking and frowned. “Chin up! Smile! You’re here to represent Canada! Remember that you’re Canadian and how proud you are of your country!”

“But you’re…” he began uncertainly.

“Tonight I’m also Canadian,” she retorted.

_Except that I’ve never met a single Canadian who talks like that. Actually, never mind that – I’ve never met anyone from anywhere who talks like that._

Yuuri’s grip on his hand tightened and Victor did his best to follow Lilia’s instructions.

_There will never be another time like this. Never again._

But the thought only made him more miserable. He had an odd sensation as if a cold hand reached inside his chest and gripped his heart. Still his lips went on smiling.

Yuuri switched hands so he could put one around Victor. He rested his head on Victor’s shoulder and whispered, “I’m right here.”

And, at least for a moment, the pain let him go.

 

The first time they went out on the ice to compete was for the team event.

Victor and Yuuri skated to the middle of the ice. The cheers were subdued. There were noticeably more Russian than Canadian flags out among the audience.

“Are you ok?” Yuuri whispered as they got into position.

“Not really,” he confessed.

Yuuri met his eye. “Best in the world, right?”

He nodded. Best in the world. Forget about them all. Focus on Yuuri. They only had this short program, then the free skate. Next the short program and free skate again for the ice dancing competition and that was it.

He’d never had butterflies like this before a competition. This wasn’t just nervousness. This was more than that.

There was a softness in Yuuri’s eyes. The sight made the butterflies in his stomach settle and he breathed in slowly. The music started to play and he let it carry him away.

They delivered a great short program and got top marks, putting their team in first place.

That evening it was a little easier to talk about retirement as he and Yuuri celebrated with the rest of their team.

“I propose a toast!” JJ announced, raising his glass. “To a great team!”

“Really…” Yuuri tried to protest.

“I meant our whole team,” JJ told him with a wink. “What did you think I said?”

Victor opened his mouth to defend Yuuri, but JJ clapped him on the back. “Just kidding! To Yuuri and Victor!”

“To Yuuri and Victor!” they all chorused.

“There you are!” someone called out and, before they knew it, they were joined by Chris and Phichit.

Both skaters had qualified for the Olympics and would be competing against each other in a few days.

Several happy greetings were exchanged and Chris and Phichit told them all a long story about how they’d run into each other, how it was all very funny and…

Victor could feel Yuuri’s eyes on him. He turned away from the newcomers and forgot all about them and their surroundings.

What could be more beautiful than Yuuri’s face? Victor stared with his mouth slightly open. Very carefully he placed a hand over Yuuri’s and wondered if they could slip away unnoticed and go somewhere, just the two of them.

 _When we win that gold medal I’m going to confess everything I feel,_ Victor promised himself. _Let him decide if he still wants to be with me after that._

Victor’s phone rang in his pocket, but he ignored it. Whoever it was, they probably weren’t important.

“Victor!” several people called out at once and he blinked, breaking the spell.

“What?”

“Your phone!” Chris exclaimed and laughed. “These two, honestly! You’re always lost in your own little world.”

He pulled it out of his pocket and checked who the caller was. Georgi’s name flashed on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Victor, to be honest, I’d rather celebrate with you right now, but,” he lowered his voice and Victor’s mind conjured up an image of him whispering dramatically into his phone, “people will just see it as a kind of betrayal. They’ll call me Judas and throw me out of the team.” In any other circumstances Victor would’ve dismissed this as too much, but that whole season had been proof that what Georgi said wasn’t too far off from the truth. “I just wanted to wish you good luck in the free skate.”

“Thank you.” His eyes drifted over to Yuuri. “Good luck to you too.”

“Who is it?” Yuuri whispered.

Victor put a hand over his phone and mouthed “Georgi”.

“Wish him good luck from me,” Yuuri whispered.

Victor’s hand dropped from the phone and Yuuri caught it with both of his. He leaned closer to hear what Georgi had to say and they had a short three-way conversation full of inside jokes that only the two of them would understand.

The party didn’t last long after that: there was another competition scheduled for the next day.

“Alright, everyone!” JJ exclaimed over the murmur of conversation and they all turned to hear what it was he wanted now. “Time for bed! Get lots of sleep tonight!”

“Yes, mom!” Chris responded in a sing-song voice to general merriment.

But no one argued and they split up into little groups, all of them headed in the direction of their rooms.

 

The team competition continued the next day, but, little by little, things fell apart.

JJ fell and ended up in second after his closest rival from Russia. Isabella Yang, who represented Canada in women’s singles didn’t fall, but didn’t do as well as everyone else and came in third. Their pair skating duo, Eric and Meagan, won first place.

Victor did his best to suppress all his bitter thoughts. He didn’t look at the summary tables and didn’t total up the points to avoid thinking about their chances at winning teams.

Georgi and Anya went out onto the ice next.

“You can do it!” he shouted and Yuuri picked up the cry, but their voices were drowned out by the crowd’s cheering.

Everyone in the stands was up on their feet and chanting. They weren’t chanting “Georgi” or “Anya”. They were all chanting the name of their country. “Russia! Russia! Russia!”

Victor watched them get into position and his heart fell.

Georgi was staring down at his feet as Anya whispered something to him, an angry expression on her face.

The chanting grew lower. “Russia! Russia! Russia!”

There is an old Russian saying that Victor had learned from his aunt right before his first Olympic Games: “at home even the walls help you”. Unfortunately for Anya and Georgi, the saying didn’t apply in their case.

They shouldn’t have chanted. They’d assumed that a patriotic cheer would boost Georgi and Anya’s confidence, but it didn’t. Instead, it made things worse. They stumbled and then over-rotated during the twizzle sequence. These were all small mistakes, but in a competition like this one each little mistake cost a lot. By the time they finished Victor could see they just wanted to get out of there.

The judges handed out their scores and put them in fourth place.

Yuuri and Victor skated out in a hostile silence. Even the Canadian fans sitting in the stands didn’t dare make a sound.

Victor met Yuuri’s eye and saw the fear and uncertainty there. “Let’s skate with no regrets,” he whispered and took Yuuri’s face with both hands.

“For Georgi and Anya,” Yuuri whispered back.

“Yes.”

Their free skate had a tinge of sadness, as befitted a skate that in a few days’ time would be their last ever program in a competition. They skated it without a single mistake.

But when they finished all they got was cold applause.

Victor and Yuuri bowed as warmly as they could and skated for the kiss and cry where another nasty surprise waited for them.

They sat between Lilia and Yakov and stared at the scoreboard in disbelief. Second. The pair from America beat them by 0.02 of a point. The scoreboard changed to show the overall standings for the team event. America got bronze, Canada – silver and Russia won gold.

 _Keep smiling_ , he told himself. He waved at the cameras, doing his best to ignore the chanting coming from the stands around them.

Victor would never forget the look on Georgi’s face as someone put a gold medal around his neck. He was the last of his teammates to get his medal. The other Russian skaters beamed happily or blew kisses at the audience. Georgi’s face showed plainly that he didn’t think himself worthy of the medal. Anya whispered something into his ear and he tore his eyes away from the medal and his lips twisted in a pale imitation of a smile.

The Russian anthem played over the speakers and at least half of the audience sang along.

Yuuri took Victor’s hand. There was a big smile on his face. To Victor’s surprise, he didn’t look upset that they hadn’t won gold.

 _We still have our ice dancing competition,_ he reminded himself. _If we work hard, we can win that gold, I just know it!_

They didn’t party this time. Everyone went back to rest so they’d have enough strength for the competitions that followed.

JJ competed first out of all of them. Again, he took silver in singles. Isabella got bronze. Eric and Meagan won gold. By the day of the ice dancing competition tensions were running high. The competitiveness was back at full blast. They’d gone to watch each other compete and, so, Victor and Yuuri knew that their teammates would come to watch them too.

Yuuri and Victor were set to go last. This meant waiting for everyone else to go before them as the nervousness built up. They were experienced in competitions, of course, but Yakov and Lilia worked together to keep them focused all while trying to do the same for Georgi and Anya.

Victor kept his eye on Yuuri and when the man complained he was feeling sick accompanied him to the washrooms. That was where they found Georgi.

“I don’t deserve the team gold medal,” he told them miserably. “My teammates all worked hard, but I messed up.”

“You worked hard too,” Yuuri insisted. “We were there with you all season. We saw how much effort you put into this season.”

Georgi lowered his head and put his arms over it. “I can’t deal with all this pressure. I feel like my head will explode any minute now.”

They put their arms around him and coaxed him gently into a better mood. Still it was quite some time before he left.

“Our warmup is soon,” Victor said, but he could see that Yuuri needed some time away from everyone else.

For a while they were silent.

Finally Yuuri spoke. “Let’s skate our best today.”

Victor had no argument against that. “Yes.”

 

He blocked the audience out this time and didn’t listen to who they cheered for or how loudly. They could chant whatever they liked. Victor’s attention was all on Yuuri and he did his best to keep Yuuri’s all on himself. They kept one arm around each other, holding each other close. Victor placed a careful hand on Yuuri’s cheek.

_I love you._

“Your warmup starts now!” they announced, bringing Victor back to the present.

Victor skated backwards, taking Yuuri by the hands. There was a soft smile on Yuuri’s face. They’d already agreed on what they wanted to do in the warmup. First came the twizzle sequence from the short program. Then they went over part of the step sequence and a spin.

 _Think!_ he told himself. _What next?_

He caught himself smiling and realized that this time it wasn’t for the audience, but for himself. He was happy. Despite it all coming to an end, he was out on the ice with Yuuri and there was nothing else that could bring him as much joy as this. He held on to the feeling until it was their turn to go back out onto the ice and skate their short program.

Yakov eyed his pupils with his arms crossed over his chest. This season had brought out a rebellious side to the coach that Victor had never suspected even existed, but, more importantly, he’d proven his loyalty to his students and Victor wished he could tell the man just how much it meant to him.

All they could do now was skate their best and hope their coach would understand. Of course he’d understand: he’d been a coach for longer than Victor had been alive.

Their short program that season was a mix of foxtrot and quickstep. _“Dream a little dream of me,”_ the singer insisted throughout and Victor found himself thinking that he would often dream about his time skating with Yuuri.

How could he ever forget the wonderful feeling when they moved together to the music, each element exactly as they’d planned, telling the story that came together over a summer? Even if they performed this skate at an ice show it wouldn’t be the same.

He didn’t notice how they got to the end. It had all passed too quickly for words. And he could see by the expression on Yuuri’s face that it was the same for him.

The audience applauded.

“Go Yuuri! Go Victor!” their teammates shouted at the top of their lungs, doing their best to make enough noise to sound like stands crammed full of people.

They bowed and waved in both directions at the judges and at the stands. That done, they made for the kiss and cry where Yakov and Lilia waited for them.

“That was a very good skate,” Yakov told them.

Both skaters stared at him in amazement. They were used to their coach grumbling and complaining. In the kiss and cry he either told them what they needed to work on, or sat silently. They’d never heard him praise them like this before.

The judges posted their scores and the skaters looked at the total. Before either of them could say anything, a table appeared with all the names. Their names appeared next to the number 2.

 _Not good enough for the judges,_ Victor thought sadly. And then he noticed the small point lead Georgi and Anya had over him and smiled. What was a 0.5 points when there was a free skate still to go?

The same thought must’ve occurred to Yuuri because he went on smiling.

Yakov and Lilia said nothing.

 

Evening was turning to night as Yuuri and Victor prepared for sleep. Yuuri was taking a shower while Victor brushed his teeth in front of a mirror.

He washed his mouth and stared at his reflection. Would they still enjoy this kind of intimacy after they retired? Whenever they shared a hotel room they had no qualms about using the bathroom at the same time like this, but only because once, a few years ago, Victor had pointed out that this let them go to bed faster so they could get more sleep before a competition. Now they wouldn’t have this excuse.

He closed his eyes and went over the free skate mentally. He imagined Yuuri raising him and then going into a spin. He imagined how they would finish and then bow. He mentally awarded them a high score and then pictured them both standing at the top of the podium with their second Olympic gold around their necks.

The water stopped and Yuuri reached out.

Victor handed him his towel absent-mindedly.

Yuuri wrapped himself in it and opened the curtain. “What are you thinking about?” he asked.

“Tomorrow,” Victor admitted.

Yuuri climbed out of the bathtub and stood before him. Victor waited for him to say something, but Yuuri remained silent.

The sound of several people coming down the hall broke the silence and Victor imagined a group of drunk athletes returning from a party. The picture was so vivid that when he heard the knock it took him several seconds to realize that the knock was against their door.

“Put your pajamas on,” Victor whispered. “I’ll get it.” He walked over to the door and braced himself for an argument with a group of drunks. “Who is it?” he called out and then, he did his best to sound as polite as possible, “I think you got the wrong room.”

“It’s us,” his father’s voice answered him.

The door swung open so fast it took Victor several seconds to realize that he’d opened it himself without thinking.

His father and Yuuri’s parents stood in the dimly-lit hallway and stared at him with mournful looks on their faces.

Victor’s heart sank. “What happened? Where’s mother? Shouldn’t she be with you?”

“Can we come in?” Victor’s father asked. “Your mother is fine. She’s on her way to St. Petersburg.”

He stepped aside and let them in, closing the door behind them.

Yuuri walked out of the bathroom wearing only his pajama pants, with a terrified look on his face.

“You’ll want to sit for this,” Victor’s father told them and they dropped down on the bed side by side. “Your mother wanted to wait until tomorrow, but I think you need to know now. Something happened, something very terrible.” He looked at Victor and then fixed his eyes on Yuuri.

Victor felt Yuuri tremble next to him and put an arm around his shoulders.

“Your… Aunt Alla passed away this morning.” The words struck like a hammer.

There was a long silence. Yuuri covered his face and wept without a sound.

“What? How?” Victor asked.

“She was really ill. The doctors called it … I can’t remember, to be honest.” Victor’s father exchanged a look with Yuuri’s parents. “It had a long complicated name.”

Yuuri shook harder and Victor’s arms around him tightened.

“We didn’t want… We think the press will find out somehow and we’re worried they’ll ask you to comment, or just mention it and… you need to hear this from us,” Victor’s father went on.

Victor realized his face was wet and had been for the last few minutes, but he made no move to wipe his tears off.

Their parents gathered around them then and hugged their sons tight. For a long time there was no sound other than that of crying.

“I’ll have a talk with the organizers,” Mr. Katsuki began, “maybe they’ll make a special exception for you two.”

“No,” Victor spoke up. “No, we need to compete as if nothing is wrong.”

Yuuri raised his head. He saw how wet Victor’s face was and wept harder. “Oh, Victor! I’m so sorry!”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Victor whispered. “It’s not your fault.”

“I should’ve talked her into going to a doctor. I should’ve done something!” he lamented.

“Alla hated doctors,” Victor’s father told them. “She refused to see them all her life.”

 _Hated_. Past tense.

How was it possible to feel so much pain at once and still be alive? He remembered her, not as he’d last seen her – lying on the couch and too weak to stand, but bustling away in the kitchen, worrying over them, calling them to make sure they were okay. He remembered her teaching him how to make pancakes. He remembered the way she laughed when he and Yuuri prepared for their date.

He’d never see her again. They’d never get the chance to ask for her advice for the music they should use for their routines. They couldn’t tell her about the Olympics. They couldn’t… They’d never…

He lowered his head onto Yuuri’s shoulder and shook.

When Victor became aware of his surroundings again his parents were discussing something. His grief-stricken mind struggled to make sense of their words.

“You shouldn’t be alone,” Mrs. Katsuki was saying. “Don’t worry about Yuuri – we’ll look after him.”

Victor’s father looked doubtful. “But splitting them up the night before a competition? I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Splitting who up? What were they talking about?

“I’m not leaving Victor!” Yuuri exclaimed in an anguished voice and Victor realized that the parents were planning to take Yuuri somewhere else. “We need to be together right now!”

 _How did I ever doubt that I love you? How was it possible that I was so stupid when I love you so desperately right now?_ He wanted to kiss Yuuri and hold him close, promising that everything would be okay. He wanted that promise to be true. He wanted for everything to _be_ okay, for it all to be magically fixed.

But there was no power in the world that could bring Auntie back.

Yuuri freed himself and stood up, forgetting that he was still only in his pajama pants. “We have a competition tomorrow!” he exclaimed. “If you split us up now, how will we go out on the ice?”

They didn’t argue with this odd logic. None of them dared to point out that they could sleep in separate rooms and then skate together without a problem. They wished them both good luck and good night and left.

Yuuri dropped onto the bed and covered his face with his hands. He lay on his back and trembled.

Victor pulled the blanket out from under him and covered Yuuri with it. “I’m right here,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around Yuuri and pressing a kiss to the side of his face.

“Oh, Victor! She’s dead!”

“I know.” He rubbed Yuuri’s back. “But she wouldn’t want us to miss this, especially not because of her. Tomorrow we will skate for Auntie.”

Yuuri pulled his hands away. “Yes.”

They slept, wrapped around each other all night, drawing comfort from each other’s presence. Several times one of them would wake up and weep only to hear the other person whisper, “I’m here,” into their ear and slowly calm down.

 

Morning came, bleak and cold. They brushed their teeth, took a cold shower each and went out to face the world.

The press met them in the lobby.

“Our sincerest condolences. We heard about –” a particularly keen journalist began, holding a recording device out in front of him.

Victor held up his hand. “I’m very sorry. We don’t want to talk about it. All we will say is that tonight’s skate is dedicated to the memory of…” his voice trembled and he broke off.

They walked away.

“I’m scared,” Yuuri whispered as they left the hotel. “I’m terrified of going back home, of walking around empty rooms, of not having her come out to greet us, of the silence…”

“Don’t think about it now,” Victor said, rubbing Yuuri’s back. “We’ll talk about it on the way back. There’s nothing we can do about it until we come back anyway.”

“One thing at a time?” Yuuri asked.

Victor nodded. “Yes, one thing at a time.”

They stopped before the doors to the Arena and looked at each other. Yuuri reached out and hugged Victor, burying his face in Victor’s shoulder.

_I love you._

“Together,” Yuuri whispered.

“Together,” he agreed.

 

They were second last out on the ice. Victor’s career had taught him to skate through his pain, but he didn’t think his last skate would be a painful one as well.

_This is it. This is our last skate in a competition._

He realized with some surprise that the knowledge that this was it didn’t matter anymore. Aunt Alla’s death numbed him to all other pain, at least temporarily.

He channeled all that pain into their program and by the time they finished Victor realized that he couldn’t smile anymore. Yuuri put his hands over his face and wept. Victor enveloped him in his arms.

“It’s done…” Yuuri whispered. His whole body shook.

Victor rubbed his back. “We’re not done yet,” he reminded his partner as gently as he could.

They released each other and, the tears still on their faces, bowed in both directions. Their team cheered and waved a big poster, but Victor couldn’t read what it said through the curtain of tears.

This was it – the last time they’d sit in the kiss and cry, the last time they’d listen to Yakov grumble about something or watch him remain quiet, the last time they’d wait anxiously for the scoreboard to show how many points they got.

Yuuri raised his bottle to his lips and drank. He finished, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and handed the bottle to Victor who drank from it without thinking.

“…and they are currently in first place.”

He couldn’t smile. It was impossible now. Even with a gold medal he knew he wouldn’t be able to smile properly.

Georgi and Anya were up next. This time Lilia was the one talking to them.

Yakov whispered, “That was the best delivery of this free skate I’ve ever seen from you two.”

The two skaters exchanged a look of surprise. Why was Yakov still complimenting them? What was going on? _Maybe it’s his way of saying goodbye,_ Victor thought, keeping one arm around Yuuri.

Even cheering for someone was almost impossible now, so they contended themselves with watching.

If that had been Yuuri and Victor’s best delivery of their free skate, then what followed was Georgi and Anya’s best delivery of theirs.

Victor and Yuuri left the kiss and cry as they continued to watch. They made two steps along the boards and stopped, unable to tear their eyes away. These few minutes would decide everything – who got which medal and the tone of their retirement from competitive skating.

When Anya and Georgi finished the Arena shook from the sound of cheering and clapping. Victor clapped too, as did Yuuri.

Why were they taking so long? Why did it take them that much time to bow and leave the ice? The long wait for the scores was starting make breathing impossible.

He glanced at Yuuri. Maybe they were really one person and shared one soul: Yuuri was holding his breath too.

“And their scores are…”

Victor’s heart fell.

A loud noise went up, rolling through the Arena and drowning out everything. For a moment he felt lost. Was this really happening? Or was this some kind of terrible nightmare? What…?

Georgi leapt out of the kiss and cry and grabbed both Yuuri and Victor by the hands.

“C-congratulations,” Yuuri stammered out.

Victor repeated after him, only half-aware of what he was saying.

“Thank you! It’s all thanks to your help, really!” Georgi exclaimed, as always getting carried away and too emotional.

No. Not too emotional. This was his moment. He’d worked hard to get here. They all had. Victor mentally berated himself for his coldness and managed to smile at last. “You deserve it.”

“You do,” Yuuri agreed.

The three of them hugged each other and Anya soon joined them.

 

 _I’m sorry, Auntie,_ Victor thought as he stood on the podium. _I didn’t win gold like I promised, but Georgi and Anya deserve this._

He told himself to feel happy for his friends, but then another thought occurred to him – he’d planned to confess to Yuuri after their win. What was he supposed to do now?

With barely any time to breathe after the competition, the medalists were pulled into a press conference where journalists did their best to ask difficult questions.

All six skaters did their best to answer as politely as they could.

And then, just as they thought the press conference was done and they were finally free to go, one of the journalists spoke up, “There’s a rumour going around that the judges were all paid off to give Russia the gold medals in the team event and in ice dancing. What do you think about this, Mr. Nikiforov?”

Everyone turned to look at him and he picked up the microphone to answer. “For several years now Georgi and Anya were our biggest rivals out on the ice. For one reason or another I didn’t know them all that well. It wasn’t until the start of this season that we became very close. We spent a lot of time together and I know how much pressure there was on both of my friends to do well in this competition. They worked harder than anyone else in our rink. I’m very happy that they won the gold medal and I’m proud to have competed with them for so many years.”

Both skaters gave him grateful looks.

Victor turned his head, took Yuuri’s tired face in and then turned back to the press. “We’re all very tired, so I’d like to ask you to leave the rest of your questions for tomorrow, please.”

He set the microphone down, rose to his feet and held his hand out to Yuuri.

He wanted more than anything to drop on his bed with Yuuri by his side and to lose himself in blissful sleep, to be numb to the world even if only for a little while. He worried his teammates would drag him off to a party to celebrate, but for some reason they left him alone.

_This is it. That’s all._

There was the exhibition skate in a few days, but it didn’t count.

_It’s done. It’s over and I didn’t tell Yuuri anything._

The emptiness inside him seemed to grow with every minute. He was terrified and said nothing the whole way back.

They went through the usual routine – shower, brush your teeth, pull on your pajama and drop on the bed – without thinking as if they were nothing more than puppets.

Victor closed his eyes and waited for sleep to take him.

He hadn’t confessed. He had to confess. This was important. He had to tell Yuuri how he felt and find out what Yuuri’s feelings for him were. He had to…

He couldn’t sleep. His mind kept turning the same thoughts over and over again in his head.

Victor sat up, unable to take it any longer. Any more of this and he would go insane, he was sure of it.

Yuuri slept on and Victor stared at him with a hint of envy in his eyes.

What was he supposed to do now? Lie and hope he’d fall asleep? Try to read or watch something? He tried to read something on his phone, but he couldn’t focus on any of the words. His mind kept drifting to the same thoughts over and over again.

Silver medal. No confession. He had to confess, but he didn’t.

And again. And again.

Biting his lip in frustration, he texted Chris. _Are you still awake?_

The answer came almost right away. _I am. Trouble sleeping?_

_Yes._

_Come join me._

Twenty minutes later Victor sat next to Chris in a crowded bar and ordered a drink. He’d dressed as quickly and as quietly as he could while Yuuri slept on.

The barman brought him a shot of vodka and Victor downed it in one go. “I was…” he began, “I was supposed to confess.”

“Confess what?” Chris asked.

Victor gave him a long stare and realized that his friend had no idea just what situation Victor had gotten tangled up in. “My feelings,” he said simply and did his best to explain the confusion of the past few years. It was some time before he managed to explain the dating and the kissing. “I was going to win gold and confess!” He ordered another shot and swallowed it. “But we got silver and… I don’t care about that! It’s not a sign of failure, or something like that. All that is nothing compared to this. He’s going to leave me, Chris! We’re not going to skate together in competitions anymore and I haven’t confessed and –”

“Listen,” Chris interrupted impatiently, “why don’t you just go and confess to him now?”

“Now? He’s sleeping!”

Chris nodded at something behind Victor and he turned to look.

Yuuri stood in the doorway, looking relieved. He rushed across the bar to join Victor when a loud cry drew everyone’s attention to a couple sitting by the windows.

“How can you say that?” the woman jumped to her feet. “How dare you say something like that to me?”

“Wait, please!” the man sitting with her rose.

“You know, I’ve wanted to tell you this for a while now and I guess now is the best time for it – I don’t love you anymore!” she announced and Victor finally recognized her.

The man froze. “You don’t… you don’t mean that.”

“I do!” she exclaimed triumphantly. “I’ve fallen in love with someone else!”

Victor’s mouth dropped open.

Anya turned away from Georgi and walked away, not caring about the heart she’d just broken.

“Victor!” Yuuri exclaimed, joining them at the bar. “Victor!”

All he could see was Georgi’s broken figure draped over the table by the window. He needed to go over there to try to comfort his friend, but his legs wouldn’t move. They refused to carry him anywhere.

“Victor!” He realized someone was shouting his name and raised his eyes. Yuuri stood over him with a terrified look on his face. “You disappeared without saying anything or leaving a note. I woke up all alone and… I was so scared!” He threw his arms around Victor and clung on so tightly it was painful. “Don’t run off like that, please!”

“I…” Still all he could see was Georgi’s heartbroken expression. Victor buried his face in Yuuri’s chest. “I’m terrified,” he got the words out at last.

“Terrified of what?” Yuuri asked, loosening his hold on Victor a little.

“Terrified of losing you,” Victor admitted. “Terrified you will leave me all on my own.”

“Victor we’re retiring. That doesn’t mean we’re splitting up completely. We’ll still be together.” Yuuri kissed the top of Victor’s head. “I promise.”

Victor pulled Yuuri closer without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Routines mentioned in this chapter:  
> [Short Program](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kq-e_Jkf91s)  
> [Free Skate](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q7F0969uvqw)
> 
> I'm almost at 100k... wow!


	17. Covered Mirrors

Auntie’s apartment was full of shadows and darkness, tears and sobbing. It was packed with memories that had all become sad. Even the happiest of memories were sad now. Someone had covered all the mirrors, making the apartment even more eerie.

It wasn’t empty and that only made things worse. People who Victor had never seen before came, claiming they were relatives of some kind, and talked about Aunt Alla. Some of them dug through her things, looking for something to take. They found old photos of her, of themselves, of people who were long-dead, they dug up nice cutlery and china that she only saved for special occasions and they took it all away with them. Victor couldn’t shake the feeling that they took pieces of her with them.

They all went to the funeral and gave long meaningful speeches that would’ve made her shake her head and roll her eyes, but their eyes were all dry. Only Yuuri, Victor and his mother wept when the grave was lowered into the ground.

Afterwards the two skaters sat in the couch in the living room, unable to do a thing. Words seemed trite and they couldn’t even find the will to eat.

Victor’s mother took over, cooking meals and forcing them to eat regularly.

At night when everyone left and the apartment became unbearably quiet it was even harder to cope. The first night Yuuri came into Victor’s room and asked meekly if they could sleep together.

Victor just nodded. Of course they could.

He didn’t think about his love at the time, his feelings for Yuuri stepping back to let his grief remain in charge.

They curled up side by side under the blankets and slept. Victor felt as if he was nine years old again, as if the adults had stepped in to protect both of them against whatever evils were out there, while he and Yuuri had to do what they were told until the danger passed.

He remembered a time when Yuuri had come over to his house in Ilderton and a big snowstorm broke out. Yuuri had been forced to sleep over that night.

When Victor woke up the next morning the first sight that greeted him was of Yuuri’s sleeping face on the pillow before him. They’d held hands in their sleep and, even now, Yuuri’s fingers were curled around his. His eyelashes trembled a little in his sleep.

Victor raised his free hand, reached out and then snatched it away, afraid that his touch would wake Yuuri.

Yuuri opened his eyes and smiled at Victor. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

The smile dissolved to be replaced by a sad expression as Yuuri’s memory reminded him of what had happened and he shifted closer to Victor. His eyes were like two deep pools of despair. “I don’t want to get up,” he confessed.

“Me neither.” His heart beat fast in his chest. It was no wonder he thought of pools – he could see his reflection in Yuuri’s eyes.

Yuuri sat up. “But we have to.”

 

After a week of mourning Victor’s mother sat them both down for a talk in the kitchen.

“We went over… the will,” she began in a trembling voice. “She left the apartment to you two to do with as you like.”

Yuuri and Victor exchanged a look.

“I want to go back home to Canada,” Yuuri confessed. “I don’t think I can stay here any longer. I’m sorry.” He lowered his head in defeat, his arms lying on his lap.

Victor put an arm around Yuuri. “I’m going too. I don’t know what to do with the apartment. Should we just keep it, or sell it, or what?”

For a while his mother was silent. Finally she spoke. “This apartment is very important to our family. We had so many memories here. I remember bringing your father over when we were still dating…” She went silent. Victor watched her sit there, reliving the memory in her mind. “She was glad to accept him and cooked a big meal for him while asking all kinds of questions about him.”

“Let’s keep it, then,” Victor decided. “I don’t want anyone else to live here. Maybe whenever one of us comes to St. Petersburg in the future, we can stay here.” _And maybe by then the stay won’t be this painful._

His mother agreed to that. He turned to see what Yuuri’s reaction would be.

The man gave a small shake of his head. “She’s your aunt. It’s your decision.”

“But she left it to both of us,” Victor pointed out.

“Then I agree with your decision.”

They packed their things, cleared out the fridge, gave all the plants away to the neighbours and locked the apartment up. They left on the first available flight back home.

 

Victor sat in the plane and stared out at the snowflakes as they fell slowly outside the window. Someone out there was signaling to another plane to move out, but there’s remained still. His mother was in the aisle seat, reading the magazine. Yuuri was between them.

How many years had it been since they first flew here? It felt like all eternity had passed, as if they’d always lived in St. Petersburg. He couldn’t remember everything about their move here anymore, but he could still recall that feeling of being alone with only Yuuri for company, of being told time and again about all the difficulties they’d have to face while training in a foreign country.

 _No,_ he thought, _they didn’t tell us everything back then. But how could they have done that? Who would’ve foreseen all Yuuri and I had to deal with in our last season? Who could’ve imagined the way the Olympics would go, or that I’d be unable to speak about my feelings properly?_

“Victor?” Yuuri called softly.

He tore his eyes away from the window and looked at Yuuri. Grief had made confessing his feelings impossible, but maybe he’d find it in him to speak up someday soon. “What is it?”

Yuuri dug through his bag and pulled an envelope out. “I found this letter on my bed the day we came home from Sochi. It’s from Auntie.”

Victor reached out and hesitated. “Isn’t it for you?”

“It’s for both of us. Sorry I held on to it for so long, but I didn’t think the time was right for it yet. You need to read it.” There was determination in Yuuri’s eyes now. He wasn’t going to accept any argument from Victor this time.

Victor took it without argument.

_Dear Yuuri and Victor,_

_It feels odd to be writing like this when I can pick the phone up and call you, but I woke up this morning convinced that I don’t have a lot of time left and I can’t shake the feeling off. If anything happens to me, I want you to know how thankful I am for what you’ve given me during your time here. I worry I won’t be able to say goodbye to you properly, but I don’t want you to end up without a gold medal because of your old aunt._

_My dears, I can’t express how glad I am that fate brought you here to me! I don’t think I ever said it often enough – but I love you both from the bottom of my heart! I want more than anything for you two to be happy._

_Hold on to each other. I know you plan to retire after these Olympics, but keep holding on to one another! This isn’t my dying wish and I dare not force you to do something like this. I just think that you are so much happier together that being apart is foolish. Whatever you decide to do next, I hope you two can stay with each other._

_Love,_

_Aunt Alla_

He wiped the tears off his cheeks as he read, but they kept on coming.

“Let’s live together,” Yuuri whispered as soon as Victor raised his eyes from the paper. “I don’t care if we live in Ilderton, or London, or somewhere else, just as long as it’s the two of us together.”

Victor nodded. “We’ll be apart for a little while, but I’ll try to figure something out.”

“What do you want to do?”

“No idea, yet.” He smiled. “It’s kind of liberating, isn’t it? Not having any competitions to prepare for, I mean.”

 Yuuri nodded. “And terrifying.”

They had lots of time to discuss plans. Yuuri talked about ice shows. Victor brought up coaching.

Nine months went by in ice shows, interviews, talk shows. They toured the country with other skaters, going from the west coast to the east with barely time to stop and think about anything else.

Fans from different cities asked for autographs, waved banners and wore T-shirts with their names and pictures on them. The skaters posed for pictures and shook hands.

For a while there wasn’t a big difference between their current and previous life. They still had to practice and they still skated before an audience, even if it wasn’t for marks and more frequently than competitions generally allowed.

It was fun, like a long skating holiday where they got to enjoy all the good sides of a skating competition.

Yuuri and Victor laughed a lot. They acted silly in front of the fans, letting themselves go a little.

“What is your favourite dance move?”

Yuuri twisted one of his feet. “Something like this. It’s all in the footwork.”

“Yuuri is an expert on footwork,” Victor agreed. “While for me, it’s more…” He got up and raised his arm vertically and imitated a pumping motion, “…like this.”

The fans laughed.

“So between Yuuri’s legs and my arms you get a kind of balance,” Victor concluded, sitting back down.

“A real team,” Yuuri beamed at Victor and he felt his heart flip over in his chest. He hadn’t been prepared for that.

“Any more questions?” the host asked, looking around the room as Victor did his best to pull himself together.

 

The skating tour ended in mid-November and both of them returned home.

Bleak, cold days followed. There was very little snow that winter. The trees stood bare, stretching their branches up to the grey sky like monsters out of a nightmare.

They couldn’t settle on a place to move into. Victor looked for apartments in Toronto, but it was tricky to find something with a good indoor skating rink nearby and at a reasonable price. They made many trips to the big city to look at places together. Who knew how many staircases they’d climbed side by side and how many elevator trips they’d made? Sometimes they ran into sellers who spent the whole time feeling star-struck.

Victor wondered if he was getting too picky. For some reason, after so many years spent living in his aunt’s old apartment in a building she kept telling them could crumble to the ground any minute, he couldn’t find a single apartment he liked.

“Maybe a house?” Yuuri offered one evening during their drive back.

Victor had a car now and license. Yuuri was working on getting a license too.

“I don’t think that’s the problem,” Victor said slowly as an idea occurred to him. “I think we need to decide what we want to do and then think about where we should move.”

For a while they were both silent. They’d done little jobs on the side, small ads for sportswear and skin care, but they hadn’t committed to anything long-term.

“Someone from the Montreal skating club called me this morning,” Victor admitted once the pause got too long to bear.

“What did they say?”

“It was Patrice himself.”

Yuuri gave a little gasp of surprise. “Really? How is he doing? How is his wife?” Many years ago they’d competed against Patrice and Marie-France before the pair retired and decided to get married.

“Doing well, he said,” Victor answered and the ends of his mouth rose in a smile. “I had a hard time understanding him,” he confessed, “but he offered me – both of us, actually – coaching jobs. We can do that… if-if you want to?”

He risked taking his eyes off the road for a quick glance in Yuuri’s direction. He was sitting in his seat, lost deep in thought. “I don’t know what kind of coach I’d make,” he finally admitted, “but I think you’d be a great coach. You were always good with the younger skaters.”

“I’m not moving to Montreal just because of me,” Victor said.

Yuuri placed a hand on Victor’s shoulder. “I have no preference. Honestly. If you decide to be a coach, I’ll find something to do.” He shifted closer. “Maybe I’ll find a way to help you?”

He couldn’t turn and look at Yuuri now. He wanted to, more than anything, but something told him that if he did, he would lose control of the car. “I’ll be more than happy to have your help.”

He felt Yuuri’s arms wrap around him. Having no competitions was definitely liberating, but there was a different side that Victor was starting to discover.

“I… uh… Chris writes to me sometimes,” he said, wishing the road would end soon. “He’s still competing and… well,” Victor struggled for words that would do his feelings justice, “I know he means well, but sometimes his messages make me feel like I’m not doing anything at all.”

“I get the same with Phichit,” Yuuri confessed, releasing Victor and reclining in his seat.

“Let’s give coaching a go, then,” Victor said. “If it doesn’t work out, we can always try something else.”

“M-hm.”

 

That was how one morning in the middle of December Victor woke up in a house on the outskirts of Montreal.

He and Yuuri got a bedroom each and there were still another two bedrooms available, one of which was the master bedroom. Separate bedrooms with their own bathrooms, a little patch of land with two trees, a basement, a kitchen, a dining room, a living room, an office they had no use for and a rec room they ignored – these were all new luxuries for the both of them.

They met in the kitchen for breakfast. What few things they had were still packed in boxes lying around the house. One box still sat half-unpacked on the kitchen floor. Their parents had given them some things and they’d bought a few essentials, but they were still short. The empty counters and free cupboards in the kitchen were proof enough of that.

“I can’t believe how much stuff I take for granted,” Victor said as they put together a list of what they needed.

Yuuri nodded. “We still need more groceries. I’ll go buy some while you get the kitchenware.”

Victor stared at the list and then at Yuuri with a mournful expression on his face. “I thought we’d pick stuff out together.”

“I trust you to make a good choice,” Yuuri told him. “Besides, this way it will be faster.”

Victor frowned at the list. That much was true, but all of this – moving into a house of their own with Yuuri, living together, buying appliances and furniture together – felt like, well, like marrying Yuuri.

 _God, I love you so much right now._ Unable to resist the pull, he walked around the table and kissed Yuuri on the cheek.

Then it dawned on him just what he was doing and he jumped back, putting a hand over his mouth. “Sorry!”

Yuuri blushed, keeping his eyes on his plate. “well, if-if you really want… If you think my advice will help…”

A wonderful week followed, during the course of which they shopped for all kinds of furniture, arguing over this or that piece, dropping into armchairs, or lying on beds to try them out.

Buying the house had taken a big chunk out of their savings. Now they had to budget what they had left. There was enough money for one table, a toaster, a few small things and, as they discovered with a little shock, only one bed.

“I never realized beds were so expensive!” Yuuri whispered to Victor, so that the salesmen walking around the store wouldn’t hear him.

After a week of sleeping on the floor Victor had been looking forward to sleeping on a mattress again, but surely he could tolerate it for a little longer? “You can have it,” he offered to Yuuri. “I can buy a sleeping bag and once we’ll earn more money we’ll get –”

“No, you should have it,” Yuuri argued. “You’re the one who found the house, after all.”

One of the salesmen walked over to them and asked them something in French. Victor couldn’t help noticing that he was in a suit and tie, looking way too fancy for a store that sold mattresses and nothing else.

Yuuri and Victor did their best to smile. They hadn’t realized before moving to Montreal how big of a problem language would be. It was all still Canada, right? They’d assumed that English was spoken everywhere. But not in Montreal, or the whole province of Quebec, where the city was located. Here speaking English was often seen as a useless skill.

Victor and Yuuri had yet to learn any French. (Victor was secretly looking forward to language lessons by candlelight as Yuuri looked at him with his soft eyes.)

“We want to buy a bed,” Yuuri stammered out as they both mentally prayed the man could speak English.

“A bed?” he repeated. “But these are far too small for the two of you. The ones for couples are over here,” he gestured for them to follow him.

Victor, who’d gotten used to not arguing about his relationship with Yuuri, walked after the salesman without arguing.

“You’re very lucky!” the salesman congratulated them, joining his hands. “We have this wonderful one right here on a good sale today!”

Victor stared at the giant bed and thought of the empty master bedroom in their house. Would it fit? It probably would. He had to stop himself the moment he realized his imagination was adding more details to the room. “Really…” he began, preparing himself for a long explanation about his relationship with Yuuri. His eye fell on the price.

“What do you think?” Yuuri whispered into his ear. “Maybe it’s better this way? We pay a little more, but get a bed we can both use.”

Victor opened his mouth to say something, but what was there to say? He took Yuuri’s hand and smiled at the salesman. “We’ll take it!”

 

The next morning he woke up next to Yuuri in a big house that was all their own, in a large comfortable bed that belonged to both of them, in the comfortable knowledge that he was free to choose what he wanted to do.

By the time Yuuri woke up the smell of a delicious breakfast made its way up to the second floor and into the master bedroom. As Victor cooked breakfast he imagined Yuuri turning over with a happy smile and then sitting up as his mind told him he was hungry. He could picture how messy Yuuri’s hair would be and how he’d try to rub sleep out of his eyes.

“Good morning!”

He turned away from the stove and saw Yuuri standing in the doorway in his big, loose pajamas. “Good morning! Breakfast is almost ready.”

They still needed to buy a lot of things and there was a lot to do around the house, but they locked the house and jogged to the skating arena instead.

 

That day the pupils of the Montreal International School of Skating were in for a real treat. They arrived to find two new people at their rink and not just two new students, but two-time Olympic medalists – Yuuri Katsuki and Victor Nikiforov.

Yuuri lifted Victor and spun him around his head as his body spun on the ice. The two skaters had found an empty ice rink and couldn’t resist the urge to make use of it.

News got around fast and by noon all the fans could talk about was the pair’s sudden move to Montreal. More details got out and everyone agreed that the skaters had settled into a blissful married life together.

 

Victor watched a group of three-year-olds go out on the ice, making their first shaky steps. Unable to resist the pull, he joined them out on the ice, making for the lonely figure in a black coat, a knitted hat and big mittens. The mittens brought back a memory from many years ago.

 

_“Boys!” Svetlana called out and they both turned to look at her, wondering what she wanted now. “Come here.” She saw them hesitate and motioned at the ice in front of her. “Right here. I want you to stand next to each other.”_

_They did as she asked. Did she want to check which of them was taller? Victor wondered. Wasn’t it obvious that he was the taller one?_

_To make sure he put a hand at the top of his own head and slid it through the air and above Yuuri’s head to prove that, yes, he was the taller one out of the two of them, if only by a little bit. He grinned, as if he’d won a competition._

_Svetlana nodded. “Just as I thought.”_

_They both stared wide-eyed at her. Victor threw a quick glance at Yuuri out of the side of his eye to see if it made more sense to Yuuri than to him._

_“Go around the rink together,” she instructed them. “Holding each other’s hands, I mean.”_

_It wasn’t easy to go side by side like she wanted: both boys kept getting in each other’s way, bumping into one another, but, after a few laps, they started to get the hang of it. They learned to watch each other and anticipate where the other person was going._

_Victor’s fingers closed very gently around Yuuri’s. This was really fun! Yuuri met Victor’s eye and Victor grinned wider._

_Svetlana clapped her hands, making them both turn their heads. “No, no, you’re not two friends enjoying a day at the skating rink. You need to move like skating_ partners _.”_

 

Partners. He could still remember the touch of Yuuri’s mittens against his bare hand.

“Hello!” he called out, stopping in front of the little skater all alone at the boards. “Here, why don’t you try holding on to my hands?”

The boy raised a pair of fearful eyes to Victor’s face, then lowered them to his outstretched arms. Finally, deciding to trust this stranger who’d come unbidden, he reached out and grabbed on as tightly as he could.

Victor pulled him gently along as he went backwards, doing his best to explain what his little pupil should be doing with his feet. They went around the rink once before he very carefully freed his hands.

“Ah! I’m doing it! I’m doing it! I’m skating!” the boy exclaimed, stumbled and Victor caught him with a laugh.

“Yes. Just keep trying and you’ll get the hang of it.”

 

They took a lunch break and returned to find a group of teenagers out on the ice. A whisper passed among them – these skaters recognized the ice dancing pair before them.

“Right,” said Victor, “I’ll be your coach for today. How does that sound?”

They stared in silence and Victor wondered if they were too stunned to speak, or just didn’t understand what he’d said. Oh well, he’d find out soon enough, he reasoned.

“My name is Victor Nikiforov and my lovely assistant today is Yuuri Katsuki himself,” he introduced them both, just in case he’d been wrong and they hadn’t actually recognized him.

Yuuri giggled with a faint blush on his cheeks. “Stop!”

Victor reached out, caught Yuuri by the hand and pulled him close. “You’ll all be kind to my dear Yuuri, won’t you?”

He flirted with Yuuri, unable to stop himself. To his mild surprise, Yuuri flirted back.

To Victor’s great luck, these students could speak a bit of English and they managed to get through the day.

In the evening, when everyone left, Victor pulled Yuuri out onto the ice and into one of their routines. Yuuri skated along with a smile on his face. It felt so good to skate for themselves. Victor didn’t look at the audience, concentrating all his attention on Yuuri and imagining that it was only them.

They finished with their foreheads pressed together, breathing fast. Victor’s hands were on Yuuri’s shoulders.

 _I love you, so much._ He opened his mouth to say it, but the words got stuck in his throat.

Yuuri stared into his face, probably sensing that there was something Victor wanted to say.

Why couldn’t he get the words out? Why? He’d known Yuuri for so long. Surely it was easy to confess his feelings to the person closest to him? And didn’t Yuuri feel the same in return?

Victor’s heart beat fast. He’d been so wrapped up in his own feelings that he’d neglected to think about Yuuri’s at all. How could he explain himself now? All those times when he should’ve spoken up, but didn’t? Was it too late to say anything now?

 _I’ll just wait a little longer,_ he thought. _I need a good occasion to say it. I’ll confess over the holidays. That’s really romantic, isn’t it?_

Yuuri’s fingers brushed over Victor’s chest. “Let’s go home?” he asked softly. “Or do you want to skate again?”

He realized with a pang that he was tired and gave a small shake of the head. “Let’s go home.”

 

Two weeks later Yuuri was holding a ladder as Victor climbed to the top. He reached up, a string of Christmas lights in his hands. This was another thing they’d never done before – decorating their house from the outside. It needed a lot of teamwork between both of them: Victor would hang up the lights and Yuuri would hold the ladder and tell Victor how it looked.

Victor’s birthday was approaching quickly, but he didn’t have any special plans. Whenever Yuuri talked about restaurants, Victor just shook his head and insisted that staying at home was better. They still had no TV, but they had each other for company and that was more than enough.

Montreal was very different from St. Petersburg. It wasn’t just the language, but something about the atmosphere of the city. St. Petersburg always had at least a few concerts and exhibits happening at the same time. It had an abundance of museums. There was the sense that most of its inhabitants wanted to know what the newest book was about and knew all there was to know about art and history.

They’d travelled to the centre of Montreal a few times, only to find a very vibrant night life and a big selection of restaurants.

“A little to the left!” Yuuri called.

Victor nodded and shifted the lights a little.

It wasn’t exactly a paradise: he and Yuuri had disagreed over a couple of things, but so did everyone else, so it didn’t count.

“Perfect!”

He almost reclined to look, but remembered in time where he was. He climbed down and joined Yuuri on the ground. “Not bad, if I say so myself.”

“It’s perfect,” Yuuri whispered, putting an arm around Victor and pecking him on the cheek.

“I… uh…” He knew he was blushing deeply, but tried to get the words out anyway. “I think I’m ready for a cup of hot chocolate now.”

Yuuri laughed and led the way up a staircase to their front door. Victor followed right behind him.

 

Evening fell over the city and Victor sat in the kitchen, waiting for Yuuri to come home. He stared out the window that looked over their little backyard and watched snow pile up higher and higher.

Yuuri had left a whole hour ago, promising to return home soon. It was the evening of the 24th and Victor wondered what possible reason he could have for leaving all alone at a time like this.

What if something happened to him outside? How would Victor ever know?

He eyed his phone in a panic, expecting to get a call any minute now from Yuuri, telling him he was stuck and needed rescuing. Victor imagined walking through knee-deep snow for several hours before finding Yuuri and…

The doorbell rang and he ran to answer the door.

Yuuri stood outside, his hands clutched to his chest.

“Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed. “Are you alright?” He pulled Yuuri inside and locked the door behind him.

“I’m fine, honest,” Yuuri said with a weak smile, one hand over his chest and the other – curved around his stomach.

“You’re freezing! Let’s go upstairs. Let’s –”

“Victor,” he held one hand up while the other remained where it was. “I’m fine. I really am. I have something for you. I know Auntie always said that it was back luck to celebrate birthdays early, but…” He unzipped his jacket to reveal a brown puppy curled up inside.

“Yuuri…”

“I thought what we really needed was a dog to live with both of us and…”

 _How are you so perfect?_ Victor’s heart melted at the sight of the cutest puppy in the world sleeping against Yuuri’s chest. Very carefully, he took the dog from Yuuri and held him while Yuuri took his shoes and coat off.

“What’s his name?” Victor asked.

“I thought it would be better for you to name him,” Yuuri admitted, hanging up his coat in the closet. “What do you think?”

Victor raised the sleepy puppy to his face. “Hello! What do you want your name to be? I’m Victor.”

The puppy opened one eye, then the other and licked Victor’s face.

Victor laughed.

“I bought dog food in secret yesterday,” Yuuri admitted, reaching out and stroking the dog’s fur.

“How about Makkachin? Do you think it’s a good name?” Victor asked.

“I like it.” Yuuri leaned forward and pecked Victor on the cheek.

Victor’s mouth felt dry. “Yuuri…”

“Hmm?”

His face was still wonderfully close. His mouth was within reach. Just a little bit and Victor would catch a kiss. His heart beat fast. He licked his lips. _Oh, Yuuri._ “I… Yuuri, I… I l—”

The doorbell rang, startling both of them.

“Who is that?” Victor asked.

“I don’t know.”

They were leaning in close to each other, ready for a kiss and now neither of them wanted to step away. The bell rang again, louder and more impatiently this time.

“I’ll get it,” Yuuri whispered and moved out of Victor’s reach.

He walked to the door, leaving Victor alone in the middle of the hall with a puppy in his arms. Makkachin licked Victor’s fingers, but Victor’s attention was all for Yuuri.

Yuuri had intended to open the door a little bit, but someone pushed it wide open and suddenly the hall was packed with people, all of them crowding around Victor and saying something in excited tones.

“Surprise!” one of them exclaimed. It was Victor’s mother.

“Mother! Father! What are you doing here?” he asked, clutching Makkachin up to his chest.

“We wanted to come see you. Merry Christmas, Victor! Yuuri!” his mother folded her arms around them one at a time and gave them a kiss on the cheek each.

He stared around in confusion. His brothers were here and so was Yuuri’s family. They hadn’t come empty-handed either – all of them were carrying boxes and bags in their hands.

“Where is your Christmas tree?” his mother asked, poking her head into the living room.

“We have a small one in the living room,” Yuuri answered. “Please let me take your coat.” Yuuri rushed around, helping them out of their coats and apologizing for how empty the house was.

Victor stared for several seconds as realization dawned that he and Yuuri had completely forgotten about Christmas. They’d gotten so used to celebrating New Years and all the Russian holidays that followed that he didn’t even think about the 24th being a holiday. Remembering himself, Victor set Makkachin down very carefully and helped them bring their things in.

“Nice place you’ve got, brother!” Peter said and gave a low whistle. “Just you and Yuuri here?”

“And Makkachin,” Victor added and glanced over his shoulder to see the puppy walk around, sniffing his surroundings with curiosity.

They were short of cups, plates and forks, but their families gifted them nice china sets, cutlery and all sorts of little things people need around the house. They even bought them chairs as well as food they’d prepared ahead of time.

“This is too much!” Yuuri protested, but his mother kissed him and assured him it was nothing.

The kitchen filled with an excited bustle as everyone helped set the table and added the finishing touches to their holiday dinner.

“We have lots of room, of course,” Victor said, “but I’m sorry to say we only have one bed in the house. We don’t even have a sofa.”

“Really?” Paul asked, giving Peter a look. “Just one bed?”

Victor turned deep red under everyone’s collective stare. “I… we… we only had enough money for one…” he stammered out.

“What do you do when someone comes over?” Yuuri’s mother asked in an innocent tone of voice.

“We don’t usually get guests,” Yuuri admitted, “but we’re really glad you came! You’re actually our first guests!”

Victor threw a look at all the people in the room around him. Was he the only one who’d thought about the implications of him and Yuuri having just one bed? Everyone, even Yuuri, carried on as if there was nothing extraordinary about there being only one bed in the house or the possibility that the two people living there were sharing it.

 _But they’ll find out,_ Victor thought. _If they don’t realize what it means now, they’ll figure it out when we all go to sleep, but… But where will_ they _sleep?_ “I can get blankets,” he didn’t have _that many_ blankets, “and… and maybe the neighbours will lend me something!” he exclaimed.

They gave him blank stares in exchange.

“Don’t worry about it,” his mother reassured him. “We brought sleeping bags and blankets for everyone. It will be like a camping trip!”

He nodded, feeling bad for having no beds for his guests and returned to his cooking. He couldn’t even offer his and Yuuri’s bed to them, because he wasn’t sure which of them to offer it to.

They had a big party, filling the house with laughter and the sound of many happy voices. Everyone stayed up late into the night, singing songs and telling each other happy stories.

 

There was something wet and warm on Victor’s face. It was some time before Victor’s mind made sense of what he was feeling. Someone was licking his face!

Yuuri? No, not Yuuri, he told himself. Yuuri would never do something like that. His eyes snapped open and he saw the puppy standing on the bed in front of him.

Behind the puppy Yuuri lay on one arm and watched with a smile.

 _I love you_ , Victor thought.

Makkachin put his paw on Victor’s face and Victor burst out laughing. He reached out with both arms and pulled both Yuuri and Makkachin to his chest.

Their families stayed until the second day of the new year. Then, on a cold morning, they packed their things in their cars and drove away as Victor and Yuuri waved them goodbye.

After that time moved slowly. There were talks of a TV show about the two of them, but after a few months of rumours and speculation, nothing ever happened.

Victor continued to teach skating and coached a few skaters through junior competitions. Yuuri and Victor were invited to do more ice shows, but the adrenaline of competing was gone and it wasn’t the same.

More than a year passed in little worries, going from one little thing to the next. Phichit and Chris dropped by for a visit a few times, but Victor couldn’t help the feeling that he was still waiting for something big to happen.

 _I have to confess,_ Victor told himself one evening as he drove to the other side of the city to pick something up for the house. Yuuri hadn’t come with him this time. _I have to confess and propose, so we can finally get properly married with rings and a ceremony and everything._

A song was playing on the radio and a word caught his attention, making him turn the volume up to listen to the lyrics.

_You don’t have to be rich_

_To be my girl._

_You don’t have to be cool_

_To rule my world._

_Ain’t no particular sign I’m more compatible with._

_I just want your extra time and your_

_Kiss._

The memory of one of their passionate kisses washed over him then, making his heart beat fast and his cheeks burn. He resisted the urge to raise his hand to his face and place it over his lips. It always felt so good to kiss Yuuri. He remembered arguing with Chris about kissing and what it meant and shook his head. Was he really that foolish?

Kissing Yuuri made him feel things beyond the power of mere words to describe. Sometimes he felt like it set off fireworks in his chest or…

_I want to be your fantasy._

_Maybe you could be mine._

_You just leave it all up to me:_

_We could have a good time._

He blushed deeply. Was the singer reading his mind? Or was this just how being in love felt?

A feeling nagged at the back of his mind and he struggled to identify it. What was it? There was no one on the road with him, no police cars were following behind, but still there was a feeling of…

_Familiarity_

He knew this song. He’d heard it before, but where?

_Don’t have to be rich_

_To be my girl._

 

_He and Yuuri sat in the back of the car and played cat’s cradle with a piece of string. Yuuri’s cheeks were rosy from the cold even with the heater running in the car. His mittens were huge, almost twice the size of his hands. The string kept coming undone and they had to stop to retie the knot._

_“_ Don’t have to be rich

To be my girl _.”_

_Yuuri turned his head to the side and listened to the song with a curious look on his face. “I don’t want to marry someone rich,” he suddenly declared and threw a quick look at Victor._

_“Why not?” Victor asked._

_“Because rich people are always so rude! We were watching this movie last night…”_

They often played the song during their commutes to the rink in Kitchener in their first years of skating together. Victor frowned at the road. No, it wasn’t the radio. There was always a tape with this song on it in his parent’s car. What was the artist’s name again?

“Today is a day of mourning for all of Prince’s fans,” the radio announcer said in solemn tones.

_Prince! His name is Prince! Right!_

“He was found dead in…” Victor turned the radio off.

So much death. Always death. Nothing but death all around him. Realizing he wasn’t seeing the road anymore, he pulled over and lowered his head over the steering wheel.

Why did it have to be like this? Why couldn’t people be around forever? Why…?

An odd thought struck him then. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and searched around for that song. The radio was playing another of Prince’s songs and he turned the volume down a little as he listened to it a second time.

Then a third time.

No. It was a terrible idea. An awful idea. A…

_“I just want your extra time and your_

_Kiss.”_

He was dialling Yuuri before he realized that he was doing it.

“Victor? Is something wrong?” there was a hint of terror in his voice.

“No, well – yes. Kind of. I mean… Listen, Yuuri, I just had an idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if cliffhangers count if we all know where they’re going, but shhhh.
> 
> Also this chapter is more proof that sometimes I have a very strange sense of humour.  
> The song is [Kiss by Prince](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H9tEvfIsDyo).


	18. Slay

The announcement shocked the figure skating world, or parts of it, at least. There were definitely many people going “I told you so”. Many saw it as a reason for celebrating. It was the cause for several big fights among fans, but they all agreed on one thing – they all wanted time to move faster.

 

_“What is it?” Yuuri asked with an odd emotion in his voice._

_Victor paused for a moment and tried to understand what it could be, but his head was crammed tight with what he wanted to tell Yuuri, so he pushed on, promising himself to think about it later. “Have you ever heard the song_ Kiss _? The one by Prince?”_

_“I think so,” Yuuri said doubtfully._

_It struck Victor then that maybe this wasn’t a conversation to be had on the phone. He opened and closed his mouth a few times. Then he glanced out the window and spotted the sign up ahead. “Can you listen to it now? I’ll be home in a few minutes.”_

_Victor had expected Yuuri to point out what was wrong with his idea. He thought Yuuri would urge him to focus on all his new pupils and forget this. He hadn’t expected Yuuri to actually go along with the idea and go one step further._

_When Victor talked to Yuuri about the song and what it meant, he thought that maybe he’d be able to persuade Yuuri to agree to a new exhibition skate in honour of Prince. He hadn’t been prepared for the conversation or the outcome that had followed. As always, Yuuri had succeeded in guessing Victor’s deepest wish. Two weeks later they announced their return to competitive skating. They would have new coaches – Patrice and Marie-France agreed to step into this role – and they would set their sights on the Pyeongchang Olympics._

 

In the week that followed the announcement Victor’s phone rang over and over again as different people demanded to know one thing.

“When is your wedding, Viten’ka?” his mother asked. “I keep hoping for an announcement and, frankly, I’m tired of waiting for one.”

“After we win gold, mother, I promise,” he said, covering his mouth with his hand so that Yuuri wouldn’t hear him.

“Victor,” she said in a warning tone, “this is starting to get ridiculous.”

He watched Yuuri play with Makkachin in the next room, unable to decide who out of the two of them looked cuter. “I know, mother.”

 

They trained hard that summer. Their new coaches had a style completely different from Yakov. Instead of the pupil-student relationship they’d had before, now they were on an equal footing with their coaches who gave instructions out more as advice. The new training environment formed a stark contrast with the one they’d left, especially since so many of the figure skaters there were in awe of them.

Sometimes they would go out together with their coaches in the evenings, reminding Victor of all those double dates with Georgi and Anya. Yuuri’s arm would curl around his and he’d smile up at the stars and Victor would forget about everything else in the world.

 

They’d enjoyed a brief quiet period before this announcement, but now the media was back with more energy than before. Many of them travelled far to seek them out and ask all kind of questions.

Victor listened carefully to every word Yuuri said. They exchanged looks while they spoke. Yuuri talked about Makkachin and Victor cut in to insist that Yuuri spoiled him, that is, Victor.

“So you’ve moved in together. The house looks huge. How many bedrooms does it have?” the journalist looked from Victor to Yuuri, as if to show that the question was directed at both of them.

Yuuri’s fingers entwined themselves in Victor’s. “Four,” he said. “It’s a bit empty,” he confessed right away.

“We still need to find furniture for it,” Victor admitted. He wasn’t sure why he’d said the next words. Maybe his mouth decided to run off on its own and tell the journalist much more than they needed to know. “Like beds, for example. We have all these bedrooms, but they’re completely empty. It’s a bit embarrassing when we get guests coming over.”

“But if we have all these beds, no one will really use them.” Yuuri turned his head and met Victor’s eye.

It was a silly conversation topic. No one cared for their bed dilemma, but Victor was suddenly very fascinated by Yuuri’s eyes and couldn’t find the will to change the topic to something much more interesting.

The interviewer laughed as if the image of unused beds was the funniest thing in the world. “So how many beds do you have?”

“Two,” Yuuri answered, all innocence. “And a sofa, if it counts.”

They’d bought a bed for the guestroom so that Phichit and Chris and all the others had somewhere to stay. With two beds in the house, Victor very carefully avoided bringing up the question of who slept where. That bed was for the guestroom and definitely not for regular use. That was all.

Victor had no way of knowing that their innocent (if a little boring) conversation would be turned inside out by the fans.

“And a sofa,” became a meme in some circles while others speculated what the two figure skaters used the two beds and a sofa for.

Victor wouldn’t have known anything about it, if Chris hadn’t sent him links to some of the jokes. But what could Victor do about it other than continue on as if he hadn’t heard anything at all on the subject?

Fall brought them their first international competition as well as their first chance to meet some of their rivals. Their first assignment at the Grand Prix was at Skate Canada.

Victor and Yuuri ended up in the last slot of the last group.

“I forgot what this is like,” Yuuri confessed in a whisper. “The agony of waiting is killing me!”

“Let’s do some stretches.”

They found a secluded place to stretch in preparation for their turn to go out on the ice.

Victor went through a mental list of the top six pairs who’d competed against them at Sochi. Had they all retired? Who was Yakov training now? Wasn’t there a younger pair who hadn’t made it into the Sochi Olympics but was just starting to compete at the senior level? He couldn’t remember their names or what they looked like and decided against asking Yuuri. They’d meet soon enough, if they were still competing.

One challenge that ice dancers had to face was that they needed a partner in order to compete. This meant that as soon as one of the skaters couldn’t or didn’t want to skate anymore, then either the other left ice dancing, or found a new partner. As a result, many ice dancers had more than one partner over the course of their career.

After his breakup with Anya, Georgi had retired. Like him, Victor couldn’t imagine skating with a new partner. It would feel too much like cheating.

Their group was called into the warmup and one by one they exited onto the ice. Yuuri and Victor came out hand in hand and a cheer went up from the audience, but the two skaters had eyes only for each other.

Yuuri’s hair was slicked back and Victor’s was in a long ponytail. They were in identical costumes for their short program – bodysuits that were light purple and sleeveless at the top, with lots of details that went all the way down to their black pants.

They joined the other skaters in the middle of the rink as their names were called out.

“Sara Crispino and Michele Crispino, representing Italy!”

A cheer went up from the stands, much louder than the one the other pairs had received. Victor looked at the pair standing beside them. Would they be their biggest rival this season? He’d watched all the pairs in his group skate during practice, trying to get a feel for the competition. This pair had caught his eye then and it was definitely drawing his attention now.

“Yuuri Katsuki and Victor Nikiforov, representing Canada!”

The roar that went up from the audience this time shook the arena. The two skaters beamed and waved in return, flattered by their reception.

“Your warmup starts now.”

Yuuri and Victor circled the perimeter. Around them the other pairs were demonstrating different elements from their short programs. Yuuri squatted and Victor climbed onto his thighs and raised his hands.

The audience cheered and clapped in response.

He’d missed this so much. Skating in ice shows had its appeal, of course, but it was nothing like this when he knew that the judges would be watching every second of their performance, replaying bits in slow motion to seek out mistakes. The fans cheered at the top of their voices, urging their favourite pairs on, praying with all their might. The adrenaline pumped through his veins, his heart beat fast, and, together with Yuuri, he felt like he could do anything. The warmup ended too fast for his liking.

They left the ice and Victor spotted the excitement in Yuuri’s eyes that told him that his partner felt the same way. It was impossible for them to take their eyes off each other even as the first pair prepared for their skate.

After they won gold at Skate Canada, the press rushed to dub their return a triumphant one.

 

The meeting between Yuuri and Victor and their biggest rivals that a lot of fans were dying to see happened at the NHK Trophy on the morning of the first practice session. The anticipation of this meeting had already resulted in several big fights. To the press’ great delight, they were there to capture it on camera.

Victor was giving an interview to the press, who’d cornered him in a hallway right outside the bathrooms where he was waiting for Yuuri. He smiled like someone who was glad to see all of them while they asked the same questions as always.

He promised to do his best to win the Grand Prix Final this time and assured the press that he and Yuuri were feeling at the top of their game that season.

Two people came down the hall towards them just as the words left Victor’s mouth. Both of them were in jerseys with “Russia” in big letters written across their chests. Victor gave them a polite smile and a nod.

As one, the press turned to see who Victor Nikiforov was addressing. As soon as they saw who it was they surrounded the newcomers, trapping them in the middle of the hall.

There was something familiar about the two skaters and Victor did his best to remember where he’d seen them before. The taller of the two had a very serious look, but, unlike his companion, he’d returned the mute greeting. At first glance, the second one looked fragile with his thin frame and pale complexion, but a single look at the scowl that twisted his face made most people reconsider.

For whatever reason, the press decided to direct all their questions at this second skater. “Hello, Mr. Plisetsky! How does it feel to compete against the skaters you named as your inspiration?”

The skater threw a furious look at the speaker and then another one at Victor as if he was somehow responsible for this question.

“Beka and I are going to beat everyone,” he declared. He stepped up to Victor, who still had a surprised look on his face. “You shouldn’t have returned from retirement, old man.”

Victor got a little indignant at this. Sure, the speaker was – what, seventeen, eighteen? – much younger than Victor, but 27 was hardly old!

For several seconds no one spoke and then Victor heard footsteps behind him and turned with a big smile, recognizing by the sound alone who was about to join them.

Yuuri smiled at Victor first and then at the press as his hand reached out and caught Victor’s. Finally his eye fell on the two skaters before them. An expression of surprise appeared on his face.

Victor turned his head and the expression on his face mirrored Yuuri’s.

The one the press had called Mr. Plisetsky stared with his mouth slightly open as a faint blush appeared on his cheeks. There was no trace of his scowl now. Then, as if remembering about something urgent, the skater spun on his heel and ran off.

“Is something wrong?” Yuuri asked.

Victor took in his partner, as if he’d never seen him before. There was something overwhelming about him for anyone meeting Yuuri for the first time, especially with his hair slicked back and his glasses on his face.

“No,” Victor led him gently away before the press could make sense of what had happened. “Nothing is wrong.” _I’m the luckiest man in the world._

The world must’ve decided then that one person didn’t deserve to be so blessed and sent a new person their way. Yakov rounded the corner and appeared before them.

Everyone stopped moving. Victor felt Yuuri’s hand tighten around his as fear rose in his own chest. He wasn’t sure why the sight of his old coach terrified him so much. Maybe it was because of all the memories it brought in its wake, or possibly there was another reason.

“Hello, Yuuri. Hello, Victor,” he greeted them warmly and even smiled. “I haven’t seen you in a long time!”

“Yes,” Victor said.

“You’re doing well, I hope?”

“Yes,” he repeated, feeling like a schoolkid who’d done something wrong.

“Not giving your new coaches too much trouble?”

Victor faltered. Was “yes” or “no” the right answer? He spotted the twinkle in the old coach’s eye and relaxed. “Yakov!” He wrapped his arms around his old coach. “Sorry I haven’t called – Yuuri and I have been busy!”

“So I heard,” the coach said and in a lower tone he added, “My new pupils are as stubborn as you two are.”

Victor laughed and released his coach. “I look forward to watching them skate,” he said and led Yuuri away.

He was in a very good mood after that. Yuuri and he had a great practice session where they focused on each other and paid no attention to those around them.

 

The short program for that season was one of Victor’s favourites. There was a noticeable difference between the choreography of their past routines and the ones they’d put together for this season. Together with their new coaches they’d put a lot of effort into its choreography and Victor could see that it pleased Yuuri to no end. As always, Yuuri’s love for dance shone through.

They’d laughed nearly every practice, enjoying every minute.

A murmur of anticipation rippled through the crowd as they went out onto the ice together. Patrice spoke softly, as if not wanting anyone else to hear what he had to say. Victor only half-listened.

_This is us. We are here._

Yuuri drank water and set the bottle down next to his skate guards. All the old little rituals were back even down to the safety pins in Yuuri’s costume.

They exchanged a look and a smile.

“Next on the ice…”

“Go,” Patrice urged them.

A nod and they were off. They released each other’s hands as they got into position. Victor stopped and turned as behind him Yuuri did the same. Back to back. Yuuri’s hands reached behind him to hold Victor in place so he could align himself perfectly and even that was like a little ritual.

What followed wasn’t so much a skate as a dance. They’d tweaked every element until they got the perfect flow.

“ _You don’t have to be rich to be my girl_ ,” Prince insisted and Victor agreed full-heartedly.

Yuuri raised his arms multiple times throughout the skate and spun them around with a look of pure joy on his face.

_They stopped partway through their first run-through to watch Marie-France demonstrate what they should do with their arms._

_Yuuri repeated with a serious look on his face that soon melted into a smile. Victor did the same, his eyes on Yuuri the whole time._

_“I can see what you like about this dance move now,” Yuuri admitted._

_Victor merely laughed._

 

Partway through the skate the tempo slowed down a little as a fragment of another song played to be replaced by bits of _Purple Rain_ afterwards.

They ended by joining hands and raising them.

 _Good,_ Victor thought and pulled Yuuri into a hug.

The ISU had made more tweaks to the score system and changed some of the rules, freeing up several elements for figure skaters. Both Yuuri and Victor had been thrilled about that. They’d mentioned it in many interviews already, as if hoping that word would get back to the ISU somehow and would serve as a way for them to say thank you.

They skated to the kiss and cry as the last pair prepared for their short program. Victor caught Yakov’s eye. The coach spoke to his pupils in a way that was all too familiar to Victor.

_That used to be us._

One of the skaters – he still wasn’t sure what their names were – stood to attention as he listened to his coach. The other skater kept his shoulders hunched.

“Oh dear,” Victor murmured as he stepped off the ice.

“What’s wrong?” Yuuri asked, turning his head to see where he was looking.

“I’ll tell you later,” he promised. _I didn’t realize that was just bravado._

They sat down in the kiss and cry and waited for their marks. Both of their coaches chatted excitedly about what they’d liked in that skate, but Victor found himself very nervous suddenly. Was that good enough? Could they do better? He was convinced that yes, they could, and promised himself to find out just how to do it.

“And the scores for Yuuri Katsuki and Victor Nikiforov are…”

Victor’s eyes widened as he took in the screen.

“79.47 points! I don’t believe it! A new world record!”

They threw their arms around each other and then pulled their coaches into a collective hug. Around them everyone was cheering and applauding as if celebrating their own accomplishment.

The next pair skated out to take their initial position and Victor beckoned Yuuri to follow him to a place where they could stand and watch. Was it possible for Yakov’s students to break the world record he’d just set with Yuuri? He had no idea.

Victor mentally berated himself for being so out of touch with figure skating during their brief retirement that he didn’t know anything about their competitors.

What of their teammates? Were they all still skating? He remembered JJ, who’d given him great advice for training after his surgery. He was still competing, right? Or had he retired after Sochi as well? Victor made a mental note to find out, but Yuuri chose that moment to lean against his arm and the next pair began to skate, both of which were enough to derail his thoughts.

Yakov’s hand was very visible in this skate, both in the choreography and the theme. Victor would never believe that someone who scowled like one of them had done would ask to skate a lyrical program. There was a marked height difference between the two skaters, but that didn’t get in the way of a beautiful routine. The taller skater had the air of someone who was very dependable and it only helped make their performance more convincing. Perhaps, Victor thought, there was more to it than just a performance.

Victor’s put an arm around Yuuri as his mind filled with memories of the two of them as teenagers. He forgot all about his injury and all the hardships they’d overcome. He thought only of all those happy times they’d shared together and the innocence of that time.

What was Yuuri thinking now? Was he remembering this too?

The skate ended and they both clapped politely. The pair headed for the kiss and cry to get their marks, but Victor wasn’t worried. He was certain that he and Yuuri could beat them. That was why when their marks were announced it came as no surprise to him when they came second.

What _had_ come as a surprise was when, after the usual press conference, they went out for an evening stroll together and Victor admitted softly, “That last skate reminded me of us when we were younger. I was even thinking –”

Yuuri pressed his mouth against Victor’s, cutting the rest of the sentence off. Victor trembled as he felt Yuuri’s hands gripping his arms tightly.

_Please don’t stop._

Yuuri’s hands travelled to Victor’s back. His lips released Victor’s. All Victor could see where two shining eyes. He felt Yuuri’s breath on his face and his knees warned him that they wouldn’t hold his weight for much longer.

“I…”

Yuuri stepped away. “Sorry, I got a little carried away.” He looked away for a moment and then met Victor’s eye again. “Thank you so much for bringing us back.” His voice trembled.

Victor did his best to smile even as all the blood rushed to his head making it spin. “You’re… I’m glad…” he mumbled.

“I missed all this so much!”

Swallowing all his emotions, Victor took Yuuri by the hand. “I’m glad. Really.”

“As always, I can trust you to know what I want.”

“Really, Yuuri…” he tried a second time.

Yuuri’s face spread in a smile. “What do I want now?”

They stood so close to each other. The night was warm and gentle. Above them the black sky went on forever and around them – a city prepared for the night, but it was nothing more than a backdrop. There was that sparkle in Yuuri’s eyes. He was so close.

Victor leaned towards him and felt Yuuri’s breath on his face again.

A loud siren a few streets away made him jump and blush as if he’d been caught in a crime. He fidgeted for a while before offering his arm to Yuuri.

They walked off together.

He wanted to stop that moment and to stay there forever, walking with Yuuri, completely relaxed and at ease with each other. Did people really need more than this? He thought of the upcoming Olympics and almost laughed. Maybe a little bit more than this.

After the free skate that followed they set a world record for the total score and entered the Final in a strong first place.

 

The day before the short program segment of the Grand Prix Final the six ice dancing finalists ended up gathering together for dinner. Afterwards, no one could remember whose idea it had been for them to eat together like old friends. Maybe it had all started with an invitation from Sara, but no one was sure. Whatever the reason, thirteen people gathered in a little restaurant in Marseilles.

Victor did his best to learn everyone’s names, but by the end of the evening he only knew five (not counting his own and Yuuri’s). Sara and Michele Crispino (who the fans had lovingly dubbed “the Crispinos”) were there along with Sara’s girlfriend Mila Babicheva. Yuri Plisetsky and Otabek Altin were there too. Both of them said very little. More than that, Yuri kept his eyes on his plate most of the time.

Mila talked with a lot of enthusiasm about life in St. Petersburg like someone who was trying to put everyone at ease while very carefully avoiding a certain topic. After catching two anxious glances thrown in his direction, a kind of understanding dawned on Victor. This had something to do with the two of them. What could it possibly be? Was she waiting for them to jump in?

Yuuri said very little. He always struggled around new people. He’d learned to relax in interviews and press conferences, especially when Victor was doing something silly, but this was completely different.

“Oh yes!” Victor finally piped up, deciding that what Mila really wanted was for them to say something. “St. Petersburg is very beautiful. We really enjoyed living and training there, didn’t we, Yuuri?”

Yuuri gave him a slightly startled look and nodded. “We did,” he agreed.

An awkward silence followed those words. Victor realized everyone was staring at the two of them.

“We haven’t had a chance to go back and visit, but…” Victor said, trying to fill the silence with some kind of noise, but memories he hadn’t been prepared for flashed before his eyes and he couldn’t say another word.

He saw his great-aunt’s funeral again and remembered how he and Yuuri clung to each other as the grave was lowered into the ground.

Half the people at the table started to talk all at once.

“Victor?” Yuuri asked softly.

He gave a little shake of his head. “It’s okay. I just… I guess I wasn’t ready for memories of Auntie. Sorry.” He swallowed back the tears that rose to his eyes.

Yuuri wrapped an arm around him.

_I love you and like an idiot I keep struggling to get the words out. Is there something wrong with me?_

“But, you know, we went to see –”

“– and it was all covered in gold! I was impressed!”

Around them several conversations continued as if there had been no talk about St. Petersburg. Victor raised his eyes and noticed Yuri glaring at him from across the table.

“Do you want something?” Yuuri asked Victor.

Victor tore his eyes away from the other Yuri and stared at his partner. _I want to be able to tell you how I feel._ “A little water, maybe?” he said, feeling like he needed to ask for something.

“Alright.” Yuuri rose to his feet and everyone in the table went silent. But he didn’t notice the way they all watched him: he was too busy looking for a waiter in the room with his eyes.

For one mad moment Victor became convinced that they all had a crush on Yuuri and that was the reason they all felt so uneasy in their presence. It was, after all, perfectly natural for someone to have a crush on him, Victor told himself – Yuuri was perfection itself.

The waiter rushed over to them and now Victor was sure that even the waiter was blushing under Yuuri’s stare.

Yuuri apologized and asked for water in the politest way possible. Victor did his best to avoid melting in his seat: he still couldn’t get used to the sound of Yuuri speaking French.

The waiter nodded and left.

Yuuri sat back down and blinked at the other people at the table. “Is something wrong?”

“No, of course not!” Mila assured him. “I didn’t know you were fluent in French, Yuuri.”

This innocent comment embarrassed Yuuri and he fidgeted with his fork and knife. “Well, we had to learn French after moving to Montreal. I wouldn’t say I’m fluent…”

“Yuuri’s French is excellent,” Victor told the whole table. “Not as good as his Russian, though. Sometimes, we speak in this strange mix of languages at home. I don’t even realize I’m doing it half the time,” he admitted.

“French is a really nice language,” Mila said encouragingly.

“I hate it,” Yuri muttered. “Everyone is just crazy for it.”

“Victor loves it,” Yuuri told them.

 _I really like it and I like hearing you speak it, but I love_ you _!_ Victor protested mentally.

“He used to get all excited when we ran into French tourists in St. Petersburg,” Yuuri went on. It felt as if Yuuri was giving some deep secret away, but Victor didn’t mind in the slightest. He sat with his chin resting in his hand and watched.

“Mila does the same thing,” Sara told them, finishing her food and sliding her plate away.

“That’s a secret!” Mila protested and both women laughed.

Something clicked in Victor’s mind and he remembered seeing Mila in one of the halls before a competition. She was a figure skater too! Of course she was! But, try as he might, Victor couldn’t remember what country’s jersey she’d worn, or if she’d been with any coach at the time.

Hoping to make some small talk, Victor ended up dropping the wrong question, “Where are you training, Mila?”

An awkward pause followed that question and Victor wondered if she’d mentioned it earlier and if he’d missed it, but then she gave him a look that had a trace of an apology in it.

“In St. Petersburg,” she took a little breath and added, “with coach Yakov.”

The atmosphere got really awkward after that, which puzzled Victor even more. “I forgot Yakov trained singles skaters!” he said in what he hoped was a carefree tone.

“Yes.”

Everyone waited for someone to say something and Victor realized with some surprise that they were all waiting for _him_.

“Is something wrong?” he finally asked, casting a glance around everyone sitting at the table.

There were several uneasy glances exchanged among the skaters. Yuri reclined in his chair with his arms folded behind his head and watched as if he was waiting for some kind of explosion.

“Well… the truth is…” Mila began, uncertainly. “We…”

Yuri laughed darkly, which earned him a glare from Mila.

“After you two left there were some rumours going around,” she began. She spoke slowly, as if weighing each word before she said it, “about the way Yakov treated you two during your last season.”

“What rumours?” he and Yuuri asked almost in unison. Yuuri’s hand dropped over Victor’s on the table and for a moment he wasn’t sure what the gesture meant. Then he realized that his temper was rising.

Mila exchanged a look with Yuri and Otabek. “To be blunt, everyone is convinced that Yakov sold you two out.”

“What?”

Mila raised her hands. “Look, it’s just a rumour! But it doesn’t help that you retired, or that Georgi argued with Anya over you two.”

There was more stunned silence after this.

Mila gave a half shrug. “Anya confessed she broke up with him when he told her he didn’t think they deserved their two gold medals. He thinks they stole them from you.”

It was Victor and Yuuri’s turn to speak now. He could feel it, but what could he say? His head was reeling at this. Nearly three years had gone by and he’d stopped thinking about the Sochi Olympics. Of course he’d wanted gold at the time, but now they were back for another chance at the Olympic gold medal and all that was in the past. He and Yuuri had learned early on in their career to learn from their mistakes and move on.

“That’s not true!” Yuuri insisted. “I know there was a lot of pressure on them, and others, to win, but Georgi and Anya earned those medals.”

A treacherous thought slipped into Victor’s mind: they’d retired with a bad feeling. It was the worst they’d ever felt in all their years of competing. More than that, it was the whole atmosphere that had been responsible for them retiring. They would’ve continued otherwise, he was sure of it.

Victor slipped his hand out from under Yuuri’s and placed his on top. Yuuri turned to look at him.

“Yakov did all he could for us and I’m sure that some people would say he did more than he should’ve, but all that is in the past. We don’t have any grudges against anyone.” He looked around the table, trying to read their expressions and then his eye met Mila’s. “And we definitely won’t hold your coach’s identity against you.”

By chance his eye fell on Yuri then. The skater sat up and watched Yuuri’s face, waiting for a confirmation of this last statement with his mouth slightly open.

Yuuri nodded.

 

Afterwards, when they’d all had their dinner and dessert, they walked back together. The atmosphere was more relaxed now. Mila fell into step next to Victor.

“You know,” she began, “you two aren’t exactly what I expected. From the stories I heard and from the way Yakov refers to you two sometimes, I thought you’d be more… I don’t know distant, I guess?”

Victor laughed. “What is Yakov saying about us?”

She laughed along. “Mostly that you two are always lost in your own little world. I see what he means now.”

Yuuri’s hand was warm in Victor’s and he knew he had no right to argue against a statement like that. “I wonder what other mad rumours are going around about us.”

“Then it’s your lucky day, because I can tell you all about them!”

The three of them laughed.

 

“If there’s one thing I realized over the course of my career,” Victor said into a microphone, “it’s that there’s little more that I want other than to skate with Yuuri for the rest of my life.”

They were at a press conference on the morning of the short program. There were dozens of journalists in the room, all eager to ask questions. They’d all watched their practice intently, scribbling something down (or Victor supposed they were scribbling something down, they had to use their little notebooks for something after all, but Victor hadn’t seen them actually write anything).

Victor grinned at Yuuri, holding his hand. “Medals are a nice bonus.”

There was a soft blush on Yuuri’s cheeks. “It’s the same for me,” he admitted.

Maybe there were a million more questions for them to answer, but everyone got interrupted by the announcement that their time was up and the skaters had to be allowed the chance to go prepare for their competition.

 

Marie-France was saying something to motivate them, but Victor didn’t listen. Yuuri was very nervous and Victor knew why. This was the Grand Prix Final, the only event they’d never won. How many times had they come into the Final, feeling sure this would be their year only to walk away with another silver medal?

He put his arms around Yuuri. “Let’s enjoy this,” he whispered. “We’ve won enough medals in our career.”

“You don’t mean that,” Yuuri pointed out. “You want to win this really badly and so do I,” he added in a whisper.

“Then, let’s go all out. No regrets.” The competitiveness was making him grin despite himself.

“Okay.”

“Whatever will I do with you two?” Marie-France’s voice cut in.

They released each other and everyone exchanged big smiles.

“I want to see flirty today,” she told both of them. Beside her Patrice nodded. “You can do all the elements, so focus on the mood.”

He remembered watching Marie-France and Patrice do a version of their skate, turning the flirting on to the max. Was it possible for him and Yuuri to skate like that? Would he be able to take the sight of Yuuri flirting a few feet away from him?

They skated away and Victor whispered to Yuuri, “Slay them” just as they made it to the middle of the ice. They stopped and turned away from each other. He felt Yuuri’s hands on his hips and felt his own heart beat fast.

 _Flirt_.

The routine left no time for messing around and they jumped straight into it as soon as the music began. Yuuri turned to face him and they skated away together. There was that happy smile on his face again.

Victor tried to flirt, but the only thought in his mind was “I love you” and he suspected that it didn’t help him be convincing. Still, he let his eyes sink into Yuuri’s and watched his partner let himself go.

Yuuri’s hands slid over his hips as he rolled his shoulders to the music.

_Don’t give me that smile. Don’t look at me like that._

It had taken Victor a long time to realize just how helplessly in love he was and at moments like this he wished he hadn’t known. He tried to keep up with Yuuri, but who could hope to keep up with him when he set himself loose?

It took all of his self-control to focus on the skate and not make mistakes. When Yuuri raised him he felt like he was flying. It was hard to come down and even harder to finish the skate and return to the real world.

“How was that?” Yuuri whispered as they hugged each other.

“That was…” His lips almost brushed against Yuuri’s ear as he lowered his voice, “That was enough to even get a man, like me, pregnant.”

Yuuri turned deep red and stared into Victor’s face as they broke the hug.

Victor continued to smile.

Yuuri’s shoulders shook as he broke out into little giggles and Victor joined in.

They bowed to the audience and then teased each other the whole way back to the kiss and cry.

“You were much more convincing!” Yuuri protested as he put his skate guards on.

_I really doubt it._

They couldn’t sit still and even their coaches were jumping in their seats. Marie-France looked ready to burst from all the energy bottled up inside her.

The marks appeared on the screen and Victor and Yuuri rose to their feet.

“80.5 points! Another world record!” someone exclaimed, but Victor couldn’t tell who it was.

They threw their arms around each other.

“You slayed them all,” Victor whispered into Yuuri’s ear as his mind struggled to make sense of what had happened.

World record again!

Yuuri said something in return, but Victor didn’t hear a single word. He rubbed Yuuri’s back affectionately and kissed him on the cheek.

 

The next day they were both too nervous to see anyone. They lay side by side on the bed in their hotel room and talked about Makkachin. They made plans for their return home, avoiding all references to the next day. It was much easier to talk about home than to discuss their free skate or their chances of finally, _finally_ winning the Grand Prix Final.

They lay on their stomachs and kicked their legs up. Victor wanted more than anything to leave over and kiss Yuuri as deeply as he could, but terror kept him in place.

 _Not yet. Not now,_ he kept telling himself. His hair fell loosely over his shoulders and he brushed it impatiently aside, frustrated each time it fell in his line of vision.

Yuuri reached out with his fingers and played with a lock. After a few minutes he released it and got up. He searched around the room until he found Victor’s comb. Once he got it, he settled into a comfortable position to the side of Victor and began to brush the long light strands with slow strokes.

Victor closed his eyes.

Once he was satisfied with his brushing he set the comb aside and braided Victor’s hair and that, too, felt very nice. Victor found himself wishing that his hair was infinitely long. The braid complete, Yuuri pressed a kiss to the top of Victor’s head and shifted away.

How could he ever hope to express all of this that he felt inside? All of these feelings that made his heart beat fast, or forced the blood to rise to his cheeks?

He thought of their free skate, allowing his mind to stray a little into forbidden territory. Marie-France had found the music and said that it reminded her of them. When they heard it, they’d loved it too.

He had to get it right tomorrow. He had to show if not with his words, then with his skating the full depth of what he felt for Yuuri.

But the competition was determined to get in the way as much as possible.

 

It was like something out of a nightmare. They waited for the music to start, but when the first few notes sounded he froze. That was wrong! That wasn’t their music!

He turned, saw the panic in Yuuri’s eyes and led him by the hand to where all the judges were sitting.

It took a long time to explain everything and get permission to start again. It upset his concentration and he suspected that it didn’t help Yuuri’s either.

The ice was rough and a little too wet, but he forced his mind to concentrate on Yuuri. They had to do this right. _He_ had to do this right.

Their movements were delicate and soft. No more flirting, no deep passions – just a soft tenderness.

Yuuri raised Victor and spun him around, lowering him gradually until Victor’s feet touched the ice. Victor got down on one knee and Yuuri placed his head on Victor’s chest. Victor’s fingers slipped into Yuuri’s hair. His heart beat fast. They held the pose for several seconds.

There!

Yuuri released Victor’s head and he sat up. Their first look was for each other. Then they rose to their feet and bowed to the judges and the audience.

Their coaches clapped in the kiss and cry, shouting words of encouragement as they made towards them.

Was that alright? Was that enough?

Victor and Yuuri could barely sit still. What would they get? What would the judges give them?

“And the score for Victor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki for the free skate program is 116.72, giving them a total of –”

They jumped to their feet. Another world record! But more importantly – first! First at last in the Grand Prix Final!

The two skaters hugged each other so tight it hurt, but they didn’t let go until they’d had their fill.

First!

Yuuri stepped back and tears rolled down his cheeks.

First!

Victor grabbed Yuuri’s arm and raised both of his own to loud, happy cheers from the crowd.

_I may not have the courage to say it, but this is the strength of my love for you!_

They wept all the way to the medal ceremony when the anthem played and they imagined their country’s flag rising above them.

Fans around the world celebrated this win like their own, not knowing what followed on that very same night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Routines mentioned in this chapter:
> 
> [Short Program](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C1xGAvmkUkw)  
> [Free Dance](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TJIk3t0IPiw). This is the routine that was used for the Stammi Vicino duet in the show.


	19. Not Here to Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more chapters to go! I have a fic to write for the fluff bang, which looks like it will be ~100k. It’s going to be a fantasy and regency AU. Because it’s so long, I’m going to be on a semi-hiatus for the next little while until it’s done. I will try to appear from time to time with a few fics. I need to finish a couple of things off and then maybe I’ll start something new. We’ll see. Also!! Movie! *excited sounds*

It was a big mystery how word never got out, but, perhaps, it could be partially explained by the fact that Phichit hadn’t made it to the Final that year.

Yuri and Otabek were among the first to arrive at the banquet. Seeing how empty it was, Yuri’s first reaction was to scoff and mutter something about coming too early.

The other skaters trickled in after them in little groups, filling the room with the sound of chatter and laughter. There was the gold medalist in men’s singles. There was the silver medalist in women’s singles. But where…

Yuuri and Victor arrived arm in arm, inseparable as always.

Yuri hadn’t been waiting for them. He wasn’t eager to see them and he definitely wasn’t going to watch what they did, looking for an opening to step in and talk to them, or one of them.

When Yuri finally joined them (not because he took so long to pluck up the courage to do it), they were both busy celebrating their Career Super Grand Slam. Having a gold medal in every other major junior and senior ISU championship, it was only a matter of time before they completed the set.

Yuri stood still, unable to think of a single thing to say to the pair that had inspired him and mentally cursed them for acting like a pair of idiots.

“Do you want another glass? This wine is really good, isn’t it?” Victor pointed out.

Yuri turned to go when the other Yuuri spotted him. “Would you like some wine too?” he offered.

“No!” he snapped. “That stuff is gross!”

“I don’t think he’s old enough to drink,” Victor confided in a whisper that carried halfway across the room.

Yuri ran off in frustration. Why did they have to be so… so… _lame_?

He remembered the first time he’d snuck into the ice rink to watch them train back when they used to live in St. Petersburg. They were always trying new things and pushing the limits of what could be done. On the ice they moved as one and they never ever fought. He’d heard the story about Victor’s shins and he’d seen Victor skate through the pain with a smile on his face as if everything was fine.

They were the team that deserved everyone’s admiration, so why was it that when Yuri finally got to meet them face to face they were so embarrassing? Was this why people went on insisting that you should never meet your heroes?

When he next saw the gold medalists they were both dancing on their floor without their jackets. For some reason, Yuuri had his tie wrapped around his forehead while Victor’s tie was on his wrist.

Even drunk witless they managed to stay in sync with each other and dance well. Yuri was a little impressed by this. Only a little. It wasn’t as if he took pictures with his phone, or anything.

“What we need is a competition!” Yuuri declared a little too loudly.

“But we already won,” Victor pointed out and giggled. “We won and we’re number on!” He laughed at this joke, but no one else joined in. This didn’t trouble him in the slightest and he merely went on giggling and repeating the phrase as if he thought if he did that enough times other people will realize how funny it was and join in.

“No, we need different pairs!” Yuuri insisted. He turned his head, searching for people around the room. “I know! You’ll dance with Otabek and I’ll dance with Yuri!”

“Yuri-duet!” Victor sang out happily.

Yuri bristled at this. He wanted to protest that he didn’t want to dance with Yuuri, but then the man himself was taking him by the hands and Yuri couldn’t find it in him to protest. To his surprise, Otabek took Victor’s hands willingly.

“We have to win this, Yuri!” Yuuri insisted. “Are you ready?” He reeked of alcohol. Who knew how much of the disgusting stuff he’d downed with Victor? And, yet, he was steady on his legs and his hold on Yuri was firm.

There was a little debate about music until they picked out something everyone was satisfied with and the dance began. Yuri wasn’t sure why he’d agreed to a fast-paced tango, but, between the pace and how demanding Yuuri was as a partner, he realized he was actually enjoying himself.

Yuuri twirled him around. Yuri stopped when he was facing his partner. They put an arm around each other and crossed the floor to the beat. All Yuri had to do was keep to the beat and guess what his partner wanted to do next and the dance could continue.

He raised his eyes from their feet and saw the big smile on Yuuri’s face. There must’ve been something contagious about it, because Yuri felt a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He felt the tension drain out of his shoulders and music slip in to take its place. Suddenly it didn’t matter which of them won.

The song ended and he turned around with a disappointed noise. “Come on!”

After four songs they finally stopped to ask their audience who they thought was better, remembering at last that they were in a competition to determine a winner.

“The Yuris have won! The Yuris!” people around them chanted.

He grinned triumphantly at this and looked over at Otabek. Only when he saw Otabek lower his head and say that he’d lost did Yuri realize how seriously he’d taken the whole competition. It was a stupid thing and he’d let the mad idiots get to him!

He stormed out of the room, having no more interest in the silly banquet.

 

A bleak morning brought a kind of sobriety with it.

Victor opened his eyes. Or rather, he tried to. One was stuck shut and the other one only opened about halfway. Someone was hitting his head with something heavy and hard. It was too bright and loud around him. He groaned and wished he was still sleeping.

He tried to open his eyes a second time and finally succeeded. He stared at a white ceiling that spun around and around with no promise of ever stopping. He closed his eyes again. He had a hangover. _Great!_

“Victor?” Yuuri called and the sound echoed in his head.

“Ughh…”

“Are you alright?”

He opened his eyes and Yuuri’s face swam into view. He looked fully awake, making Victor wonder what time it was.

“How much did we drink last night?” he asked, grabbing his head with both hands.

“I don’t remember,” Yuuri confessed as all the colour drained out of his face. “Did I…? Did I drink too?”

Victor frowned. “You did…” A memory slipped into his mind, catching him off guard. “And then you out-danced everyone at the banquet.”

Yuuri looked even more terrified now. “I did?” he asked in a small voice.

“Yeah. You and the Russian Yuri beat me and Otabek.” He smiled at the memory.

As he relived the excitement of Yuuri’s dance in his mind he wondered if anyone had captured the dance on video. If Chris had been there, he would’ve recorded every minute, Victor was sure of it. Had Chris been there? Victor found to his great embarrassment that he couldn’t remember.

“Oh god! That’s so awkward!” Yuuri whispered with a horrified look on his face. “How will I ever look anyone in the eye again? What must they think of me now?” He covered his face with his hands.

Victor sat up with a wince and slid over to Yuuri to put his arms around him. “Everyone was very impressed,” he said. “Don’t you remember how they applauded you?”

“I don’t,” Yuuri admitted softly. “I don’t remember anything.”

“Really?” One of his hands slid up Yuuri’s back.

“I don’t remember anything when I get drunk,” Yuuri confessed, lowering his head in shame. “Every time I go for a drink with someone I come home with a whole chunk of my memory missing.”

Victor opened his mouth to say something like “I’m sorry,” but jumped to his feet instead and ran to the bathroom to empty out his stomach.

 

In January, once again, the respectable and much-loved ice dancing pair won their seventh national title. Feeling at ease in their element, they let themselves go completely and Victor even sang along with “Kiss”.

“Maybe we should record a version with you singing the lyrics,” Yuuri teased afterwards, “and skate to that?”

Victor grinned. “I’d much rather skate to a version of you singing it – you have a much better voice than I do.”

A whole series of interviews followed. They were invited to different talk shows and many more people came to visit them at their rink. It became a long-running joke at their rink that soon they’ll start charging visitors and use the money to build a brand new rink.

That day’s interview wasn’t much different from the previous ones. They stood side by side at the boards, still in their skates, ready to go as soon as the interviewer ran out of questions for them.

Victor found his attention wandering. He stared down at Yuuri’s hands and fought the urge to reach for them. He missed the next question, but then Yuuri’s response sounded loud and clear in his mind.

“I love…”

Victor raised his head sharply, his heart beating fast.

Yuuri hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “…figure skating!” he said at last.

 _For a second there I thought it would be me!_ He breathed again, feeling relieved and then he scolded himself mentally. Why was he feeling relieved? He should be disappointed! _I_ am _disappointed!_ he thought bitterly. _I want Yuuri to like me. No, I want Yuuri to_ love _me!_

They returned to practice, but Victor’s mind was still back there, on that question. What had the interviewer asked? What did it mean that Yuuri loved figure skating? He’d spent forever tangled in his own feelings that sorting out Yuuri’s was just impossible.

_I should’ve confessed! I should’ve told him I love him years ago!_

“Are you alright?” Yuuri asked, bringing Victor out of his thoughts.

He tried to look like nothing was wrong, but only managed a kind of grimace. “I’m fine, really,” he lied, but Yuuri saw straight through him.

“Is it something you don’t want to talk about?” he insisted.

“Uh… I… uh… I don’t know how to talk about it.” Well, it was partially true, so it didn’t really count as a lie.

“Would you like a kiss to make you feel better?” They were innocent words, but they made Victor stumble. Yuuri caught him with a giggle.

“Yeah… I’d like a kiss…”

Yuuri took Victor’s face with both hands and pressed his lips gently against Victor’s. They were still gliding over the ice.

_I love you so much. I love you more than anything, more than life itself, more than… figure skating._

Victor closed his eyes and let them drift together, not caring where they ended up.

Later he struggled to describe this feeling. How could he find the right words to explain that sensation of flying as his heart overflowed with tenderness for his partner? Or that feeling when he was sure he was lighter than air and could take to the sky at any moment? Time didn’t exist anymore and he wasn’t sure about the laws of physics either.

When Yuuri pulled away, one hand still on Victor’s face, Victor prepared to say something, but a loud noise made them both turn.

Somewhere a door banged, but both skaters found their attention drawn by something else: their coaches were there, watching them both with dreamy expressions on their faces.

Victor realized then that while he’d completely forgotten about them and carried on as if he and Yuuri were alone, they’d just watched from the sidelines without a word.

He glanced at his partner and saw the redness in his cheeks, but Yuuri said nothing and Victor felt a grin tug at his mouth.

“I could skate like this with you forever,” he told Yuuri.

“Me too.”

They passed their coaches and Patrice called them over. “That was very good,” he told them. “I think you two really learned how to capture the mood of your free skate.”

 _He thinks we were just practicing? Doesn’t he see it’s much more than that?_ A thought occurred to him then and he glanced at Yuuri. _Do you think it’s just practice? Was that only special for me?_

There was a knowing twinkle in Marie-France’s eyes, but she remained silent.

Victor kept his thoughts to himself.

 _We’ll win the Olympic gold and I’ll propose. It will be perfect. It will also be my last chance._ He did his best to dismiss that second thought.

He and Yuuri were the best, he was sure of it. No one would take that gold from them now.

Several weeks later they won the Four Continents with a huge lead over the silver medalists and a total of 196.95 points.

Victor, feeling eager to start working on their Olympic programs, urged Worlds to come faster.

 

The sun poked its head up shyly. Fog rose from the ground. It gleamed in the golden rays of the sunrise, making it look like the trees were burning. It was quiet. Apart from the occasional car or dog owner walking their pet, there was no one else in the street.

Victor and Yuuri jogged together through the park, taking their usual route that included several small streets. Makkachin kept up with them.

Birds began to sing above them. The world felt so alive.

Victor closed his eyes as he kept going.

“Falling asleep?” Yuuri asked with a touch of amusement in his voice.

“I can follow you with my eyes closed.”

Yuuri chuckled.

It was so empty around them that it was hard to believe that there were other people in the world other than the two of them and Makkachin.

All the worries of competitions, all thoughts about feelings, and anxieties over the future faded away. Everything was fine and under control.

Makkachin gave a happy bark and Victor was convinced that he felt the same way.

 

“Today I’m doing a tour of Victor and Yuuri’s house. The fans are just dying to know what it’s like!” a journalist declared, sticking their face in the camera and grinning like someone who’d just entered an amusement park and realized that all the rides are theirs.

Victor did his best to look cheerful and welcoming. He wondered if this was actually true. Were there _really_ people dying to see their house? It was hard to believe and sounded ridiculous.

 _They could just ask to come over,_ he thought and then imagined the house filling up with people he’d never met before. _Maybe not._

“We have the living room here,” the journalist continued as if narrating a hockey match at a moment when someone was about to score.

Victor and Yuuri trailed behind like some sort of bodyguards.

The journalist commented on each room they passed and Victor did his best to add something meaningful. Yuuri would speak up from time to time as well and Victor was sure he felt the same discomfort over the whole situation.

Maybe they should’ve have agreed to this interview at all, but turning it down had felt nearly impossible at the time.

“…and oh! I see you have a photo of the two of you! Aww!” the journalist picked a small picture frame that and held it up to the camera. It showed a moment someone had caught during the Vancouver Olympics: Victor’s head was reclined as a blissful smile tugged at his lips while Yuuri’s face reached forward as if he was about to plant a kiss on Victor’s cheek.

“Do you keep a collection of photos like these?” the journalist asked.

“No, we just have this picture,” Yuuri answered. “It’s a bit awkward to have photos of us on the walls.”

Victor had to pull himself out of a vision of a house where all the walls were covered in posters of Yuuri and nodded.

“Would be nice to add one or two, though,” he pointed out and then admitted, “I’d love to get more photos to put up, but I haven’t found the time to do it.”

They joked about that and returned to discussing the house as if they were interior designers.

There was something probing about the questions, as if the journalist was trying to open the skaters’ souls up and look inside.

 _I’m not hiding anything,_ Victor thought, puzzled by the journalist’s behaviour. _Sure, I haven’t confessed to Yuuri, but what does that have to do with anything?_

After two hours of this the journalist left.

“I can’t help feeling she was disappointed by something,” Yuuri confided in Victor after several minutes of silence. “Do you think she expected us to invite her to dinner?”

“Maybe.” He only knew one thing – whatever it was, he’d never know.

“Speaking of dinner,” Yuuri began, “what would you like?”

“Anything is fine by me,” Victor replied. “Isn’t it my turn to cook, though?”

Yuuri picked Makkachin up and cradled him in his arms as he walked to the kitchen. “In that case, I’ll run to the store and get something.”

Victor stepped up to Yuuri and rubbed his hands over Makkachin’s fur.

Makkachin was in a dog’s heaven. He licked his masters’ fingers, making them laugh and rub him with more affection.

Victor raised his eyes and met Yuuri’s. His mouth felt dry as he swallowed, unable to tear himself away from that open stare.

“Yuuri, I…”

Makkachin barked softly and Victor lowered his eyes to see what was wrong. He expected the dog to demand more attention, but instead he gave Victor’s hand a light push with his head, as if urging him on.

“Yuuri…” Victor began a second time.

The skater’s attention was all on him. Even Makkachin seemed to be listening with interest.

No. He couldn’t do it. Not now. Tomorrow. No, no, after the gold medal. He’d decided, hadn’t he?

“What is it, Victor?” Yuuri asked softly and there was a hint of something in his voice. Maybe he, too, was urging him on, or maybe Victor was just slowly losing it. It was hard to tell.

“I…” He breathed out. “I don’t want you to go alone. Can I come with you?”

“Of course.” Yuuri set Makkachin down. “I’ll go change into something else.”

Victor stood still, as if glued to the spot, listening to the sound of Yuuri walking away.

There was a long silence. And then a sigh.

Victor put his hand over his face. Idiot!

 

That night Victor couldn’t sleep. He lay next to Yuuri and stared at his partner’s sleeping face. Thoughts filled his head and went around in circles until he was sure he was going mad.

He berated himself for being a coward, for failing to speak up, time and again. It was too late! No it wasn’t! Yes, it was!

He reached out and took Yuuri’s hand very carefully with both of his own.

Yuuri went on sleeping undisturbed.

Victor turned his back to Yuuri and pressed Yuuri’s hand to his heart.

Yuuri shifted and Victor froze. He felt Yuuri’s chest press against his back and then – Yuuri’s steady breathing.

The tension drained out of his body. He dared to shift a little and Yuuri’s arms wrapped around him, as if to keep him in place.

Victor closed his eyes.

Maybe tomorrow he could…

 

Morning came, warm and soft. Victor opened his eyes and smiled. Everything felt so wonderful, as if nothing bad could ever happen again and life was just one good thing after another.

Yuuri sighed and Victor felt the tips of fingers trailing over his chest. Yuuri rubbed his nose against Victor’s back. He mumbled something incoherent.

It all returned to Victor in a flash, but he didn’t slip free of Yuuri’s hold and just placed his own hands over Yuuri’s.

Yuuri shifted closer and sighed right into Victor’s ear.

_What will he do when he wakes up?_

Victor’s thumbs rubbed over Yuuri’s knuckles and he closed his eyes.

“Good morning,” Yuuri whispered.

“Good morning,” Victor echoed, feeling like an idiot.

“What time is it?”

“I have no idea.” _Does it matter? Does it ever matter?_

Yuuri’s fingers drew circles on Victor’s chest. “Maybe it’s too early for practice.”

“Maybe.” Victor wanted to turn around and kiss Yuuri, but he was suddenly to terrified to move.

Makkachin’s barking broke the silence. _How can you betray me like this?_ Victor lamented.

“He’s probably hungry. I’ll go feed him,” Yuuri whispered. His hands slipped away and he got up and walked out of the room.

It was some time before Victor could finally sit up and leave the bed. He went to brush his teeth in the bathroom, giving his reflection an angry look.

 

The Figure Skating World Championship was filled with lots of energy that year. Marie-France did her best to not miss any of the segments, rooting for her favourites. She was sure that she’d never tire of watching people skate.

She could tell that her pupils, Victor and Yuuri, were already thinking about the next season. It was not surprising with the Olympics coming up, but this time she’d told them to set all thoughts about it aside for now.

“I found the perfect music for you,” she’d assured them and they hadn’t argued. They’d learned by now to trust her taste.

They had no idea that she and Patrice had already made calls to several coaches and choreographers. They were putting together a team of people to help them do their best in Pyeongchang.

For many athletes, the chance to compete at the Olympics only presented itself once. For Yuuri and Victor it was the third time and that, too, was its own sort of “once”. More than that, she’d realized herself during her last year of her competitive career just how badly everyone wants to retire on a good note.

Yuri and Otabek went out on the ice. These two were serious competition. They had completely different personalities that worked incredibly well together. Yuri was emotional and quick to anger. Otabek was calm and dependable. There was something anchoring about him and it was a recurring theme in their routines as well.

 _And they will only get better next year,_ she thought.

“Nervous?” Patrice whispered to her in French.

She grinned. “Aren’t you?”

“All the time,” he admitted and they both laughed.

Beside them their pupils watched, all attention focused on the pair currently skating.

Yuri and Otabek drifted together and for a moment Marie-France saw a softness in their eyes as they stared at each other. Yuri turned away and clenched his jaw, but Otabek’s expression didn’t change. Otabek picked Yuri up and held him upside-down.

There were little bits of their routine here and there that gave away how much Yuuri and Victor had influenced them, but they didn’t quite have the clean edgework of their rivals.

It wasn’t just Otabek and Yuri: lots of pairs from different countries went out on the ice and paid tribute to Yuuri and Victor with their skating, sometimes without noticing it.

The music ended and the skate with it. Marie-France applauded politely and then turned her attention to her pupils.

Yuuri and Victor stepped out onto the ice, hand in hand. They exchanged a look before stopping in front of their coaches.

“Remember everything we talked about,” Marie-France said to them, “and… well, what else can I say?” She laughed softly. “You already know everything I could say.”

They exchanged smiles.

“Don’t rush off yet. I have something to tell you,” Patrice put in. “Apparently, I have a better imagination than Marie.” He stopped and there was a familiar glint in his eyes. “Good luck, you two!”

They nodded. “Thank you.”

Marie-France joined her hands in front of her face as they went out onto the middle of the ice. She did her best to keep her excitement in check, but it was hard to even stay still.

“Next on the ice, representing Canada – Yuuri Katsuki and Victor Nikiforov!”

The crowd roared and shouted like a great beast. Marie-France spared it a quick glance and spotted all the flags and posters they waved at the ice dancers. Then her attention was back on Yuuri and Victor as if she wasn’t allowed to take her eyes off them even for a moment.

Yuuri was facing her this time. He and Victor stood back to back in their initial pose. Yuuri placed his hands on his hips. He smiled and raised an eyebrow. There was that look on his face, as if he was saying “I didn’t come here to play” and Marie-France felt her stomach fill with butterflies. Her lecture hadn’t been in vain!

_I wish Victor saw that. Well, I suppose there’s always the recording._

She loved this music and their routine to it. She even danced along at every run-through. Now she was all tense.

The opening bars sounded and Victor jumped to the side as Yuuri danced.

She caught Patrice’s hand to reassure herself and then let it go again and did a little hop.

Yuuri and Victor joined hands and skated away.

Victor was singing along to the lyrics again, looking like the happiest person alive. Marie-France was singing along too.

When they got to the lift she bit her lip. Yuuri picked Victor up and the man punched the air triumphantly before coming back down. Marie-France jumped up as soon as he was back on the ice.

 _“I just want your extra time and your…”_ Yuuri dropped back into Victor’s outstretched arm and Victor raised his eyebrows at the audience, _“…kiss.”_

Now the tempo slowed down a little. Yuuri rolled his shoulders with his hands on his hips and Victor followed along. The music was just instrumental now and there were no lyrics for Victor to sing.

Marie-France wasn’t sure if she was dancing or jumping along, but that wasn’t important. All of her attention was on her pupils. “Come on!” she whispered. “Come on!”

The skate was beautiful and perfectly timed to the music. They delivered it without a single mistake. When they ended with their arms raised in triumph she punched the air. “Yes!”

Then, remembering herself, she clapped trying to keep her emotions in check. A glance to one side told her Patrice was clapping along as well with a grin on his face. They entered the kiss and cry and waited for their pupils to join them there.

Yuuri and Victor bowed in both directions and skated away, exchanging thrilled looks. There was that something in Victor’s eyes, as if he was gazing at a miracle. They wrapped their arms around each other and Yuuri bent his head towards Victor.

Marie-France thought of all the little skaters running out onto the ice.

_They tripped and some even fell as they hurried to join Victor. He laughed and skated between them, helping a couple up to their feet and then skating with them to show how it was done._

She thought of a hockey game she’d stumbled into one evening.

 

_Victor was in the thick of two hockey teams of excited teenagers. Like at the lesson, Yuuri was elsewhere and no matter how hard Victor laughed or how much fun he seemed to be having, there was always something about him that suggested that a big part of him was missing._

 

Now they got off the ice together, deep in conversation. But it wasn’t a verbal one – it was there in their eyes and their body language, in the way they gazed at each other and the way Victor held on to Yuuri’s hand as he put on his skate guards. It was a conversation no one could join, so she waited for them to finish and notice the people around them.

“I… I think I got a little carried away in the beginning,” Yuuri admitted in a whisper.

“I didn’t notice anything,” Victor whispered back.

“I think you got it spot on,” Marie-France cut in gently and then added for Victor’s benefit, “I’ll show you later. I’m sure the cameras caught it.”

Yuuri’s face was red as he sat down. Victor eyed him curiously, but said nothing.

 _I wonder how much you know about Yuuri’s other side,_ Marie-France thought, but then the marks were posted and she forgot about everything else.

“82.43 points! Another world record!” Patrice exclaimed in amazement.

Both skaters stared at the numbers as if unable to understand what they meant.

“82…” Yuuri stammered out. “How?”

Marie-France laughed and clapped. “Congratulations!” _You really earned it!_

They stared at each other and then threw their arms around one another. She could see Yuuri’s face from where she sat. He closed his eyes and held on tight as Victor rocked him gently from side to side.

82.43 points! It was almost too good to be true.

 

They were unbeatable, Victor decided as the meaning of the results finally sank in. A 5.5-point lead was huge and he had no doubts whatsoever that in the free skate they would have at least the same lead.

They sat at the press conference and grinned and talked about the Pyeongchang Olympics. This second ending of their career wasn’t as painful to think about as the first had been, even if Victor that by then he would have to confess.

Victor reclined in his chair. “Well, we can always come back for the Olympics after that,” he joked. “Where will they host the 2022 Games?”

Yuuri grinned at him and then burst out into giggles.

“And the ones after that,” Victor said, putting a hand over Yuuri’s, which was resting on the table.

The journalists all laughed, treating it as a witty joke and Victor wondered if, perhaps, he wasn’t joking after all. He would be 29 by the end of that year. Not too old for another Olympics, right? He did some mental math. He’d be 33 at the next Olympics. There were still skaters competing at that age, he was sure of it.

“Returning to your skate today, Yuuri’s beginning made a big impact on a lot of people,” one of the journalists told them. “A video of it is going around online.”

Victor frowned. Marie-France had referred to something Yuuri had done too. What was it? His eyes went to Yuuri without thinking. His partner’s face was red again.

“Excuse me,” Victor said into the microphone to everyone in general. He fished his phone out of hi pocket and searched for the video. It didn’t take long to find it.

Yuuri smirked from the screen up at him, as if issuing a challenge. Now it was Victor’s turn to blush.

“I… uh…” He raised his eyes, but the video was on a loop and it drew his eyes back down. “Oh…” His brain short-circuited. He had no idea what he was doing anymore. “I…” He unzipped his jacket a little and fanned himself with his hand, but that didn’t help.

Someone said something, but he reached out for his bottle and downed its contents in one go, the meaning of the words missing him completely.

(Later, the video of his reaction went viral.)

Both skaters avoided looking at each other, too flustered to do anything. There were some mutters and chuckles.

Marie-France and Patrice came to their rescue, giving the press some sort of excuse and dragging their pupils away.

They had dinner and, still, Victor couldn’t find the courage to look at Yuuri. No matter how hard the coaches tried, they couldn’t get a conversation going with their pupils and had to settle for speaking only to each other.

Only when they returned to their room did Victor finally manage to find his voice. “That was very good,” he told Yuuri.

“Thank you,” Yuuri whispered with his eyes lowered.

 _And too much for me,_ Victor added mentally, looking away again. The hallway was empty on either side of them. He wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.

Yuuri fidgeted. “I… sorry for making you uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable? No, no! Not at all! I felt great!” He clapped a hand over his mouth. _I wish I could disappear right now! Oh god!_

They lingered outside the door to their room, too embarrassed to say a word to each other. More than that, they’d stopped like two people about to go separate ways when they were sharing the hotel room again.

“I’m glad,” Yuuri finally said.

They both reached for the door handle, touched each other briefly and snatched their hands away.

“I… um… I’ll um…” Yuuri stammered out. “I’ll get the door.”

Victor stepped aside to let him open it.

They barely said two words to each other before they went to sleep. Only when Victor lay down on the bed did he turn to face Yuuri. Yuuri smiled and reached out with his hand. Victor took it.

“Good night,” they whispered to each other. “Sweet dreams!”

There was that old feeling from childhood – of safety together and the unshakeable faith that if anything went wrong the adults would sort it out.

 _Which means me now, I suppose,_ was Victor’s last thought before he drifted off.

 

That year Chris won silver in Worlds, but Victor didn’t have the time to congratulate him – he had to attend practice with Yuuri and prepare for their free skate.

After practice they stood at the boards and chatted to their coaches. Victor reclined against the boards, completely relaxed.

For a moment they all went silent and then Yuuri put his hand on Victor’s arm.

“What is it?” Victor asked, giving him a surprised look.

Yuuri raised his hand, cupped Victor’s face with it and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I can see you want to go celebrate with Chris. Why don’t you go?”

“No,” Victor said, putting a hand over the one Yuuri held to his cheek. “When we win then we can all celebrate together.”

“You sound very confident,” Marie-France pointed out with a grin.

Victor blinked at her in surprise. “Well… yes.”

She laughed, but said nothing more. Victor wondered what that meant. He looked at Yuuri, as if expecting him to explain, but Yuuri pulled away without another word.

 

For the free skate they had matching outfits with gold braid on the shoulders. There was something of a prince charming about them, or perhaps of a soldier. Victor’s was pink while Yuuri’s was blue. The important thing about them (in Victor’s opinion) was that Yuuri’s really suited him.

 _We’ll need good costumes for the next season,_ Victor thought as Yuri and Otabek prepared to skate.

This time their rivals delivered a perfect free skate. They even went one step further and raised the difficulty level of their skate. The judges rewarded them with 118.2 points.

Victor didn’t have time to think about what that meant about their chances of winning.

“Alright, you two,” Marie-France said, “show us all the love you have for each other.”

All the blood rose to Victor’s head. It took a lot of courage for him to even look in Yuuri’s direction, but when he finally did he found to his surprise that he didn’t look in the least bit embarrassed. He nodded with a determined look on his face and they both skated away.

_What does that mean? Dear god, what does that mean?_

They raised their arms as they circled around to greet the audience and Victor forced himself to think about Yuuri.

An image of Yuuri’s sleeping face sprang up in his mind, those moments when it was just the two of them and everything was at peace. Sometimes Yuuri smiled in his sleep and Victor wondered what dreams he had that brought so much joy to his face. He remembered the moments before Yuuri woke up when his eyelashes trembled and then he moved a little as if checking if the world was safe for him to wake up in.

_I love you._

They were almost done and Victor had a vivid image in his mind of standing on the podium with the Olympic gold around his neck when the flow of the skate was broken.

He stumbled and almost fell.

Yuuri’s hand squeezed his tightly and he whispered, “You’re only allowed to fall in the dance-off later.”

Victor forced himself to think of the skate and nothing else. He let Yuuri lift him and spin him around. Yuuri lowered Victor gently onto the ice and pressed his head to Victor’s chest. Victor’s heart beat fast, ready to burst.

Yuuri raised his head and met Victor’s gaze. “Are you alright?”

He nodded. “Sorry.”

Yuuri got up and pulled Victor up to him. “You don’t need to apologize, no matter what happens.”

Victor caught him in a hug and clung on tight, burying his face in Yuuri’s shoulder. Finally they released each other and turned to bow to the audience. Everyone around them waved flags and cheered.

Yuuri and Victor made for the kiss and cry where their coaches waited with smiles on their faces. Victor suddenly found himself wishing they would scold him. Yakov would’ve, he thought miserably.

 _Your head is up in the clouds all the time!_ he imagined Yakov shouting.

“Victor?” Yuuri called softly.

“I’m –”

“And we’re all waiting for the scores!” the announcer shouted. “And the judges have made their decision and…”

They stared at the numbers as they appeared on the screen. 116.19 points – just behind Yuri and Otabek in the free skate, but enough to be world champions for the third time in their lives.

They jumped to their feet and celebrated with the crowd. First again!

Somewhere in the back of Victor’s mind he thought how close they’d come to ending up in second place and how much he’d underestimated their rivals. He could hear Yakov’s voice…

Victor turned his head. He really _could_ hear Yakov’s voice!

But all of that didn’t matter, because for the first time in their lives they went undefeated for a whole season. They celebrated that fact as best as they could for almost a week before jumping back into their intense training schedule.

 

On the morning of their first day of training after Worlds Marie-France and Patrice met them at a dance studio.

Victor, anticipating something special, hadn’t been able to sleep properly the night before. Now he was all jittery and couldn’t stand still. Beside him, Yuuri was equally half-nervous and half-excited.

There were only four of them in the big room, but the mirrors along the walls duplicated them, making Victor feel as if they were watched. Some outside audience was there, following every word and movement.

Marie-France crossed the room and turned on a CD. “I found the perfect music for you,” she said.

A violin began to play and a voice spoke, or maybe sang, but Victor’s attention was on Yuuri. His face lit up at the sound of those first bars as he recognized what this was. Victor mentally scolded himself and closed his eyes to focus better.

The voice stopped talking as the music went on and then it called out loudly, as if in pain, _“Roxanne!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, last chapter, I very deliberately chose a version of the short program that doesn’t show what Tessa does with her face at the very beginning...  
> And now to show what I mean:  
> [Short Program](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hCE1ThwfUIU)
> 
> Some random math for anyone who cares. This fic is now 118k long, which I think is very long. My total word count on ao3 is 10 times that!


	20. Roxanne

Two voices rang out – one rough and jealous, the second – weak and vulnerable, transforming the sunlit dance studio with white walls and big mirrors into a dimly-lit nightclub.

_“Roxanne!”_

Victor’s hand found Yuuri’s and gripped it tightly. A thrill of excitement shot up his spine. The music electrified him.

And then the weaker voice took over and the story of jealousy turned to one of love with tragic tones.

_“Come what may,_

_I will love you until my dying day.”_

The music ended and Marie-France hit pause before the next song could start playing. “So, what do you think?”

“I love it!” Yuuri exclaimed, his eyes glowing. Then his cheeks reddened from his own show of enthusiasm.

“Victor?”

They all turned to stare at him. He, in turn, kept staring at Yuuri, the song still ringing in his ears. “It’s perfect,” he finally whispered.

Yuuri smiled at him. “I agree.” They were still holding hands, their fingers rubbing against one another.

 _I will love you until my dying day,_ Victor thought.

“Excellent! We’ll start working on the choreography right away!”

Yuuri and Victor soon learned that while they had been preparing for Worlds, their coaches put a whole team together. They sat down with Yuuri and Victor at a big table and worked on a plan for their training.

 _It’s like a council of war,_ Victor thought and mentally scolded himself. He had to take it seriously – everyone else was.

One of the people had put up a calendar and was filling it in, based on everyone else’s comments.

“I think,” Victor spoke up as soon as everyone went silent, “Yuuri and I need to have a week off when we distance ourselves from it all and don’t even think about competing.”

“I recommend booking a vacation and flying somewhere,” someone else said.

Victor was having a hard time remembering people’s names and prayed mentally that there wouldn’t be a quiz later. He watched in amazement as they drew up a detailed training schedule for them that went all the way to February.

An hour later he was back in the studio, watching the choreographer go through their routine. He got Yuuri to stand behind him as he demonstrated what was an excellent opening move – a quick shudder to a couple of notes in the music.

 _Like a puppet on strings,_ Victor thought, but it was a good detail and he really liked it.

 

That evening Yuuri and he spent at least an hour doing that quick movement of the shoulders as if to see who could do it better.

Then Yuuri took Victor by the hands and tangoed with him across the living room. They danced without music and improvised the whole thing, but that didn’t matter.

Yuuri stepped closer and placed a hand on Victor’s back and slid it down until it reached the small of Victor’s back. Victor’s leg slid over the floor and then rose up to wrap itself around Yuuri.

They stood still for several minutes until Victor lowered his leg. They crossed the room once more, doing their best to move in synch even though there was no music to guide them.

Victor had no idea how long they went on like this. He couldn’t remember what time it was when they’d started and he had no idea what time it was now. To him the dance lasted a lifetime.

They stopped in the middle of the living room and Victor reclined as Yuuri leaned forwards. They were mere inches apart now. He could feel Yuuri’s breath on his face and stared at Yuuri’s mouth.

Yuuri lowered his head further and Victor’s lips parted, waiting for a kiss.

“Ah!” Yuuri exclaimed, straightening up and looking at the clock on the wall. “I forgot about dinner!”

Victor stood and stared in amazement as Yuuri rushed to the kitchen to cook food for them to eat. He wanted to run after him, catch the boy around the waist and kiss him, but his legs wouldn’t listen to him.

_How can you think about dinner at a moment like this? Don’t you see the way I look at you, or what that dance did to me?_

“Victor?” Yuuri called, peering out of the kitchen. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he said before he’d even had time to consider his answer.

Yuuri walked back to him and took him by the hands. “Is something wrong?”

“No, everything is fine. Why would it be wrong?” His mouth said the words for him as his mind panicked.

Yuuri leaned forward and planted a kiss on his cheek. “You know you can always tell me whatever it is.”

“I know,” Victor said, squeezing Yuuri’s hands. “I … just I…” He smiled. “Maybe I just want a kiss to make me feel better…”

Yuuri freed his hands and raised them to take Victor’s face. His mouth caught Victor’s in a long kiss. Victor closed his eyes melting into Yuuri’s touch.

Yuuri broke the kiss and pressed his nose against Victor’s. “Like that?”

“Yes…”

 

Minami Kenjiro had a dream. Sure, he was miles and miles away from it, but all that was just detail. One day, he told himself, he would fly all the way to Montreal and ask Yuuri Katsuki and Victor Nikiforov if one of them was willing to be his coach. He had no partner and competed on his own, but maybe his idols would agree to train him anyway.

That morning he made a little discovery: Yuuri and Victor both posted a new video on both of their accounts.

 

_Yuuri stood in front of a window with one hand resting on the wall and the other – on his hip._

_Victor turned to face him._

_They walked towards each other as music began to play…_

Minami jumped in excitement and almost dropped his phone as a result. He watched the short clip several times before texting all his friends about it.

_Did you see? Did you see?_

Many others around the world got as excited as Minami had. Figure skaters and ice dancers left their comments on it in between excited comments from fans.

 

Chris stood at the boards and watched a video of his friends dancing a tango on bare feet in a dance studio. The Olympic hype was in the air as everyone urged time to go faster.

 

Phichit left a long string of comments, most of which were an incomprehensible jumble of letters, but left his overall meaning quite clear.

_I can’t wait to see this program out on the ice!’_

That evening, as planned, Yuuri and Victor flew out on their vacation. After long conversations about other destinations, they both admitted that the place they really wanted to visit was St. Petersburg.

Summer in St. Petersburg is very fickle and very often hard to catch. How many summers had felt like they were only one day long? How many Julys and Augusts went by full of cold and rainy days? Blink and you’ll miss the summer, people joked.

Still, Yuuri and Victor didn’t pray for good weather. To them, the rain was as big a part of St. Petersburg as the palaces, the Neva and the Bronze Horseman.

The return was both exciting and terrifying. As the taxi took them through the streets and back to their home – or what had once been their home – it all came back to Victor, old memories he’d long forgotten about, the smells of the streets and what he’d felt on their first arrival here. He remembered the heavy sadness of his aunt’s death and the feeling that it was all over after Sochi. No, worse than over – he was sure that in a very important way he’d failed.

“Victor?”

He turned away from the window and looked at Yuuri. “I’m alright,” he assured him. Then, catching the expression on Yuuri’s face, he added, “I really am. Just… there are so many painful memories.”

“I know,” Yuuri lowered his head. “Maybe we should’ve settled for somewhere warm with a beach after all.”

Victor put an arm around him and whispered, “We can still go later.” He was silent for a while and then he added, “I think we needed to come back. I can’t explain why.”

After all, wasn’t that why both he and Yuuri had named St. Petersburg as their destination? They owed a duty to their aunt.

Still, it was hard to step out of the taxi when it stopped in front of the old apartment building. Climbing up the stairs with their suitcases, Victor imagined he could see little Yuuri straining under the weight of his luggage. There was the familiar smell of the stairwell that brought with it the memory of the kiss snatched here, away from prying eyes. The memory was sharp, consisting of Yuuri’s smell, his taste and the feel of the wall behind his back.

He got to the door and pulled the key out of his pocket, but his hand shook. He imagined the door opening and his aunt stepping out to greet them and tell them that dinner was on the table, or ask them why they were so late.

“Let me,” Yuuri said softly and Victor handed him the key without a word. But Yuuri’s hand shook too and Victor caught it to try and steady it. They turned it in the lock together and then pulled it out.

Victor pulled his hand away and stood still. Which of them would find the courage to actually open the door?

Yuuri took Victor’s hand. “Together,” he whispered and they turned the handle and pulled the door open.

They picked up their luggage and stepped inside. Victor opened his mouth to say “we’re home” and bit his lip.

The apartment was just as they’d left it, but there was a musty unlived-in smell and they rushed to open all the windows to air the place out.

“The fridge is empty,” Victor remembered. “I’ll go buy us some food.”

Yuuri was silent.

Victor turned and saw him staring at the couch where they’d last seen their aunt. Tears were rolling down Yuuri’s cheeks. Victor walked over to him and enveloped Yuuri in his arms.

“I’m coming with you,” Yuuri said. “I can’t stay here alone.”

Nothing had changed in their absence. The little grocery store had remained exactly the same, down to the cashier who greeted them with, “Where have you two been? I haven’t seen you in a long time.”

“Oh, you know…” Victor said and it wasn’t an answer at all, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

The cashier shared some gossip with them and they listened politely, at a loss for the right thing to say.

“It’s almost like we never left,” Yuuri whispered when they were back out in the street.

“Yeah…”

They cooked dinner together, turning on Auntie’s old radio and listening to the new songs it played. That, at least, had changed – they didn’t recognize any of the songs they heard that evening.

The night that followed was full of old terrors, but they slept together in what used to be Victor’s room, as if there was safety in numbers. Yuuri clung on tightly in his sleep.

 _And, besides,_ Victor reasoned with himself in the dead of the night, _if Auntie’s ghost is haunting the apartment, then she won’t hurt us – she’d rather protect us._

He closed his eyes. _I did as you wanted, Auntie. I’m always with Yuuri now, but the last step is so hard._

Morning came and things got easier. They had breakfast and went out to explore the city as if to see what else had changed while they were away.

 

Yuri and Otabek listened to Yakov lecture about something. Well, Otabek listened. Yuri’s attention was elsewhere.

He’d worked harder than ever after Worlds. That competition had proved to him what he knew deep down: that they had what it took to beat Yuuri and Victor. Now there was no rest for him until they won. He insisted they train more and harder. He demanded a challenging program and worked with Otabek on coming up with new lifts for them. Yakov had trained Yuuri and Victor once, so now he had to give Yuri and Otabek the same training he’d given them. But while Yuuri and Victor had picked music they liked for their routines while Yuri and Otabek stuck to classical pieces, hoping that would give them a bit of an advantage.

Yakov agreed, but Yuri still refused to listen to the old man’s lectures. He needed to go out there and practice, not stand around and talk!

Yuri raised his eyes just as the doors opposite him opened and, as if summoned by mere thought, Yuuri and Victor appeared. They weren’t in skates and were dressed casually, but all the attention in the rink centred on them. Even Yakov stopped talking and turned to look.

“Hello, everyone!” Victor called out, raising his hand in a little wave. “We’re in St. Petersburg for a few days, so we thought we’d drop by and say hello!”

To Yuri’s great disgust, several skaters ran – _actually ran_ – to greet them and beg for an autograph.

Victor laughed and obliged.

Yakov walked over to his pupils and they both hugged him.

Yuri joined them with slow and measured steps. “Hey,” he said. “Come to check out the competition?”

Victor laughed again and pulled Yuri into a hug. “You’ll have to wait a little longer for that faceoff: Yuuri and I didn’t bring our skates with us this time.”

Yuri stared at them in disbelief. Did they think he was just a joke? Did they think he’d beat them in the free skate by fluke? He pushed Victor away and retreated out of his reach, as if scared that Victor would try to hug him again.

“We’re taking a few days off skating,” Yuuri explained, as if that answered every possible question.

“What? With the Olympics so close?”

Yuuri took Victor’s hand and gave him a beautiful smile. “We learned the hard way not to push ourselves too far.”

Victor smiled back.

Yuri couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Maybe they were mad. Whatever, it wasn’t his problem. If they lost, then it was better for him.

But a voice in the back of his mind said, “No, I want to beat them at their best! I don’t want them to lose just because they made a mistake, or got an injury!”

They chatted a bit with Yakov, asking him how he was doing and then asking about Lilia. Then, apparently satisfied with the answers they got, they left.

Yuri stared after them in amazement. Didn’t they want to see him and Otabek skate? But, no, they’d acted as if that wasn’t important.

“It’s good to know that at least some of my lessons haven’t gone to waste,” Yakov grumbled.

“You approve of their laziness?” Yuri asked.

“The human body can only do so much,” Yakov said. “Sometimes it helps to push beyond the limits and sometimes it’s very dangerous. You might end up damaging something beyond repair.”

Yuri just shrugged his shoulders at this. He and Otabek had won every senior level competition after Yuuri and Victor had retired. They were way ahead of everyone else and, until Yuuri and Victor had returned, competing had grown dull. Now, he wanted to show that he was even better than his idols. And he would. He was sure of it.

 

St. Petersburg greeted them with days full of sunshine. Victor and Yuuri visited every place that looked promising. They ate desserts together and shared ice cream. They took photos of each other and then a bunch together. They took boat trips over the Neva and Victor wrapped his arms around Yuuri as the wind picked up. Yuuri reclined into Victor’s touch and Victor rubbed his arms to keep him warm.

When they left St. Petersburg it was with a lighter feeling than last time and Victor couldn’t help thinking that he’d made peace with himself in some way.

To their surprise, Yakov offered to take them to the airport to see them off. He said nothing the whole drive long, but when they were saying his goodbyes he looked at them with a sad smile. “If you ever need anything,” he said, “don’t hesitate to call.”

Victor and Yuuri nodded.

Yakov clapped them both on the back. “I promised to take care of you two during your stay here, but I failed completely.”

Victor stared in amazement as actual tears appeared in the old coach’s eyes.

“But don’t get me wrong,” Yakov went on after a short pause, “my pupils will fight for every gold medal.”

Yuuri and Victor burst out laughing and put their arms around the old man.

 

Uncertainty hung over the Olympics. New evidence came to light pointing at doping at the Sochi Olympics and suddenly Russian athletes found themselves facing the possibility of being banned from competing if not forever, then at the very least at the upcoming Olympic Games.

Would Yuri and Otabek have yet another chance at the Olympic gold taken away from them? Would it make Yuuri and Victor’s chances of winning gold certain?

 

The debut of Yuuri and Victor’s new programs came at the Autumn International. Fans from around the world gathered to see what their favourite pair had prepared for that season.

A violin played. Victor stood in front of Yuuri. He gave a little shudder of his shoulders and they skated apart.

What followed afterwards was discussed seemingly everywhere. The passion of the delivery and the energy the two skaters had carried across even to everyone who watched on a screen. And then came a softer second half and – there it was.

_“I will love you until my dying day.”_

Did it count as a confession if Victor was singing along to the lyrics? _Was_ he singing along?

Several re-watches later the fans became convinced that Victor sang along to all the other parts, but not that one. What did that mean?

 

Victor, meanwhile, was mentally kicking himself. It was like a kind of practice, right? He had to get used to saying the words to Yuuri, if he was going to confess after the Olympics.

He stood in front of the bathroom mirror and stared at his own reflection. _You can do this,_ he told himself.

Victor closed his eyes and imagined Yuuri standing in front of him. _I love you_. He forced his lips to form the words, even though he couldn’t find the courage to give the words a voice.

He imagined Yuuri blushing when he heard the words and then whispering, “I love you too, Victor.”

Victor opened his eyes. His own blushing face was staring back at him.

He would do it. He would confess. He _had_ to.

 

They won the Autumn Internationals and then their two Grand Prix assignments – Skate Canada and the NHK Trophy, beating their rivals yet again and making everyone think they would go undefeated for another season.

 

December came and brought with it the news that Russian athletes wouldn’t be allowed to compete under their country’s flag. They couldn’t wear anything with Russia’s flag and when one of them won gold in an event the Olympic flag would be raised and the Olympic anthem would play. On top of that, a list of athletes banned from the Olympics would soon be announced. This announcement was followed by a wave of protests and appeals. Many people spoke out against this decision in one way or another.

“I don’t care about any of that!” Yuri ranted to Otabek. “I’d go and compete for a different country, if I could and if I knew I wouldn’t have to deal with an angry mob. I just want to compete against Yuuri and Victor!”

Otabek watched Yuri get all worked up. He hoped Yuri would never meet any of the athletes who got banned from the games. There was no knowing what Yuri would do to any of them.

To call it frustrating was to put it mildly. To have spent so much time and effort on training only to be excluded from the Olympics was enough to make anyone lose their nerve. But as soon as they heard the news Yakov told them not to do anything. There were officials for this kind of thing and, well, if worst came to worst Yakov would take care of their individual appeals.

They got the rest of the day off, despite Yuri’s loud protests. That was how Yuri and Otabek ended up in a café in broad daylight, reflecting on all they’d heard.

“We need to win,” Yuri insisted. “If this is our last chance to compete against them, then we need to win.”

Otabek nodded. “We will,” he promised as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

There was a long silence and then Yuri shifted closer to him. “Kiss me,” he suddenly said.

Otabek’s eyebrows rose a little – a sign that the words had shocked him.

“Well?” Yuri’s face turned deep red. “Will you make me say it twice?”

Puzzled, but convinced that an explanation would soon follow, Otabek pecked Yuri on the cheek.

“Not like that!” Yuri snapped. He turned his face and Otabek became conscious of how close they were. Yuri clutched Otabek’s hand as he caught Otabek’s mouth with his own.

After several seconds he pulled away and turned to face the other way, as if to hide his face. “I… I read somewhere that kissing helps…”

Otabek didn’t listen. He put his arms around Yuri. He wasn’t as passionate as his partner and when he was younger people had often made fun of him for how little emotion he showed.

By the time he turned eight he began to believe what they said about him – that he was broken in some way. If everyone was saying it, it had to be true, right?

One day he saw Yuri skating out on the ice. Before he had time to even think about it, he was out on the ice with him. He wasn’t sure why he’d done it, but Yuri didn’t push him away. Yuri accepted him just as he was and, through him, Otabek learned to be more expressive out on the ice.

They hadn’t set out to be ice dancers, but it had felt so right to skate together that by the time Otabek turned ten they were competing as a pair. Yuri was barely eight at the time.

Otabek listened to Yuri get passionate about his idols and he was there to comfort him when they retired. He saw Yuri celebrate when Yuuri and Victor announced their return and he saw too plainly on his face the signs of Yuri’s crush, but he said nothing.

Not everyone was lucky enough to have their feelings returned. Not everyone got to skate with the love of their life forever.

In the here and now Yuri turned his head and caught another kiss. This one was longer and more demanding.

 _I’m sorry I’m not Yuuri Katsuki,_ Otabek suddenly thought.

Yuri pulled away and stared into his face. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m sorry I can’t be the person you like,” Otabek said. He wasn’t the kind to beat about the bush, besides Yuri never tolerated any form of evasiveness.

“What the hell does that mean?” Yuri snapped.

“I’m not like Yuuri Katsuki.”

“What?”

Otabek shifted back in his chair, worried for the first time in his life that Yuri was about to hit him. “I don’t have his charm or looks. I don’t skate like he does and I’m no as inspirational as he is.”

“What does Yuuri have to do with anything?” Yuri demanded, but his red cheeks gave him away.

“You like him,” Otabek told him bluntly.

“Are you… _jealous_?” Yuri asked, as if trying the word out on his tongue.

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does!” Yuri jumped to his feet. “Aren’t you supposed to prove that you’re better?”

“Am I?” Otabek asked, surprised at the force of Yuri’s anger.

“Yes!” Yuri snapped. “And you _are_ better! Don’t you dare say no! Who else would put up with me?”

Otabek stared at him in amazement.

Yuri looked away and then met Otabek’s gaze head on. “You know I hate sappy words, but I… I want to skate my whole life with you!”

Otabek’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yes, of course! Why would I lie about something like that?”

“I… No…” Otabek admitted softly. “You wouldn’t lie about this.” There was a long silence before Otabek said, “I want to skate my whole life with you too.”

He stared at his hands and waited for Yuri to say something. It took a lot of courage to raise his eyes to see what reaction he got.

Yuri’s face was all red. He raised a hand to cover his face and turned away. “Buy me an ice cream!” he demanded and Otabek took it as a thank you.

Otabek rose from his seat and walked to the counter. He didn’t even need to ask what flavour Yuri wanted – he knew what his favourite one was.

Yuri joined him just as Otabek finished paying. He pulled Otabek out on the street.

Otabek held the ice cream out, but, instead of taking it, Yuri hooked his arm around Otabek’s and reached down with his mouth. They took turns eating the ice cream after that and even though it was cold outside Otabek felt warm and happy.

Yakov was right: sometimes it was good to take time off.

 

There was something different about the way Yuri and Otabek skated at the Final. Every fan picked up on it. When they went out on the ice to perform their short program, there was a tenderness that had never been there before. It was in the way Otabek lifted Yuri and the way he held himself in those lifts. Gone was the daring air, as if Yuri had stopped throwing his challenge out to the world and settled instead for flying above the ice, enjoying the pure sensation of soaring. The way their eyes met spoke volumes and when they finished they held each other’s gaze for several seconds before remembering about the audience and breaking it to give a bow.

Yakov noticed the change, of course, but he was even more surprised when the scores were announced and Yuri didn’t react in the way he’d expected.

“82.07 points!” the commentator read out.

Yuri looked at Otabek and they squeezed each other’s hands without a word. For the first time since Yuuri and Victor returned Yuri didn’t grumble about not breaking a world record.

 _Maybe he’s finally growing up,_ Yakov thought and resisted the urge to laugh.

Yuuri and Victor were the last pair out on the ice. Yakov watched them go through their usual preparation rituals and imagined what the conversations on their end of the rink were like. He imagined Yuuri getting nervous and Victor radiating confidence. They were in black costumes with gold detail that caught the light as they went out onto the middle of the rink.

The audience greeted them the way it always greeted its favourites. In fact, by the cheering alone it was hard to tell who they liked more – them, Yuri and Otabek, or the Crispinos. But, unlike Yuuri and Victor, the Crispinos weren’t expected to walk away with the gold medal.

The music began and Yakov watched. It was very strange looking from the outside. None of his past pupils had ever moved on to other coaches, so the feeling was new to him, even after a whole year.

And, yet, deep inside, he still saw them as his pupils. He still took mental note of what to tell them later as he watched the skate and rejoiced when they finished without a single mistake.

The marks followed soon after. “And the scores for Yuuri Katsuki and Victor Nikiforov are… 81.53 points!”

All this time his pupils had lost in the short program, giving them enough of a lead that the free skate results didn’t make up for it and here they were – with a 0.5 point lead.

He looked at Yuri and again his pupil surprised him. He didn’t gloat. He kept his face calm and said nothing.

 _Maybe it won’t go to his head and they’ll do well in the free skate,_ Yakov thought and then scolded himself for not thinking like their coach should. Their chance of winning the Final just improved and he had to help them make the most of it.

He lectured them as if they’d made several mistakes and hoped that at least some of his words would get through to them.

And they did. The skaters returned to their hotel rooms for some rest and the next day they attacked the practice session with all their energy.

Still, Yakov thought as he watched the figure skaters practice, there was no denying that Yuuri and Victor had lots of experience with competitions and especially with the Olympics.

The memory of Sochi reared its ugly head in his mind and he fought to suppress it.

Yuuri and Victor weaved around each other on the ice with the ease that comes to athletes who were practically born on the ice. He watched his pupils and realized that mentally he was already at the Olympics.

The practice session ended and one by one the athletes left the ice and for a fraction of a moment Yakov almost went to join his old pupils.

 _There’s no use dwelling on what might’ve been,_ he told himself and concentrated his attention on Yuri and Otabek.

 

Neither Marie-France, nor Patrice said a word, leaving their pupils to get prepared in silence.

Victor wished desperately that one of them would say something, anything, that could distract him from the unpleasant thoughts giving him so much trouble in the past few days.

A nightmare had plagued him for a good week now where he confessed and Yuuri pushed him away. Sometimes, in this nightmare, Yuuri would tell him that he was in love with someone else.

Yuuri turned and caught his eye. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Yuuri set his bottle down and took Victor’s face with both hands. He planted a brief kiss on Victor’s lips, startling him. “Will you tell me later?”

“Yes.”

“Next on the ice…”

Only then did Victor become conscious of the loud cheering around them. “Time to go,” he said.

They circled around on the ice, let go and took their positions, facing each other.

 _He wouldn’t push me away,_ Victor told himself. _And I’m almost certain he loves me back. Almost._

He wasn’t in the right frame of mind for this skate and he was sure it showed, even if only a little, so it came as no surprise that when Yuri and Otabek went out on the ice they won first place with a 2.3 point-lead.

Victor threw his arms around Yuuri. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“But I _do_ ,” Victor insisted. “I didn’t skate as well as I could’ve.”

Yuuri rubbed his hands over Victor’s back and pressed his lips to Victor’s cheek.

Unlike last time, they didn’t go all out at the banquet. They congratulated Yuri and Otabek on their win and did their best to look professional all evening long (much to the disappointment of several figure skaters who had been at the banquet last year).

 

Yuri was on top of the world after his victory. He got what he wanted. All he needed to do now was to repeat his success at the Olympics.

He rose early every day and trained, going between the gym, the ice rink and the dance studio. Naturally, Otabek was always there with him. They didn’t stop to rest over the holidays and, for the first time in his life, Yuri missed the New Year celebrations in favour of training and sleep.

“That’s not right, Yurochka,” his grandfather said to him. “You should rest and celebrate the holidays with us.”

“I don’t have time for that, grandfather!” Yuri finished his breakfast, put the dishes in the sink and left to get dressed.

His grandfather followed him with a sombre look on his face. “Is it really worth all this?”

Yuri tied his shoelaces and straightened up. “Of course it is,” he said. “Don’t you see? I _will_ get that gold medal!”

“Your parents wanted you to come visit them –” his grandfather began.

“I’ll go after the Olympics!” Yuri promised, making a dismissive gesture with his arm. He pulled on his jacket and zipped it up.

His grandfather got Yuri’s hat from the closet and pulled it down over his head. “Don’t push yourself too hard, Yurochka. Please.”

Yuri bit back the urge to point out that he wasn’t a little kid anymore and just nodded.

He ran to practice, impatient to see Otabek again.

When he got to the ice rink he found Yakov deep in a conversation with Otabek.

“What’s wrong?” Yuri asked, looking from one man to the other.

“Yakov decided to exclude us from the team event,” Otabek answered in a calm tone of voice.

“What? Why?” Yuri demanded. How could they do this to him? What did this mean?

Yakov gave him a long cool look. “Because you need some rest before something breaks. I refuse to stand by and watch impassively as you do this to yourself.”

“Listen, old man,” Yuri began, “I don’t care what you do – you won’t stop me from competing. Beka and I are the best pair out there. If you take us off the team, Russia won’t win that team event for sure!”

“Russia,” Yakov said and then repeated the word, “ _Russia_ isn’t competing at the Olympics. This isn’t going into a medal count. I know everyone will count anyway, but the truth is: it’s all unofficial and, at the rate you’re going, I’m worried about the upcoming Nationals, never mind the Olympics.”

“Nationals?” Yuri laughed. As if any of the other pairs could hope to beat him and Otabek!

I’m your coach,” Yakov reminded him, “and it’s my job to prepare you for your competitions while looking after you.”

“Like you did for Yuuri and Victor?” Yuri snapped. “Or is this guilt talking now? Are you trying to give them a chance to get the medal that was stolen from them in Sochi?”

Yakov straightened up to his full height and his eyes flashed. He looked terrifying. “Georgi and Anya won that medal fairly and I did the best I could for all my pupils. I never showed any favouritism towards any of them! If I ever hear you suggest otherwise again, you will have to find a new coach.”

Yuri scoffed and turned away. He remained unconvinced. He’d watched the competition many times and decided for himself who should’ve gotten which medal. He ignored his coach for the rest of the day and spoke only to Otabek. He was strong. He could take anything.

 

One week after the Grand Prix Final, Victor had an idea, “I think if we change the music a little,” he told Yuuri, “we can make the routine a bit better,” and more dramatic, he admitted to himself.

“What do you mean?” Yuuri asked and Victor promised to give a demonstration of what he meant soon.

It took him some time to go over the music, edit it a little and play with different bits and pieces of “Come What May” until he settled on something he was happy with.

The next day he presented Yuuri with the end result.

“The beginning is the same as before,” Victor said as he hit play, “but I think it’s best to hear the whole thing together.”

He watched Yuuri’s face anxiously while the music played and waited for the verdict. Yuuri looked thoughtful until partway into the second half when a smile spread slowly over his face.

“I love it!” he exclaimed without even letting the song finish. “You’re absolutely right – this is much better!”

Only when he saw that Yuuri actually liked the new music did Victor go to their coaches and present it to them.

Calling it new wasn’t exactly true – he’d only tweaked the second half after all, but this change was followed by tweaks to their routine. The end result was very promising and was much more dramatic.

 

They debuted the new version of their skate at Nationals, winning another national title.

But, alas, the nightmares with Yuuri leaving continued and sometimes Victor would wake up in the middle of the night, terrified and heartbroken to find Yuuri sleeping peacefully next to him.

Yuuri opened his eyes and smiled at Victor. The smile faded away to be replaced by a frown. “What’s wrong?”

“I… uh…” Victor began hesitantly. “I just… it’s nothing.” He put his hands over his face.

Yuuri pulled them away. “Bad dream?” he asked softly.

“Yeah. It’s… I know it’s stupid to let it affect me like this, but I’m scared.” He couldn’t stop shaking.

Yuuri wrapped Victor in a hug. “Do you want to tell me what it was?”

“I dreamt that you left me,” Victor admitted, feeling foolish.

“I’ll never leave you, I promise.” For some reason instead of calming Victor down the words made him cry.

“Victor…”

He pulled free and sat up. “Sorry, Yuuri,” Victor said as he slid away and lowered his legs over the side of the bed. “I’ll go somewhere else so you can go back to sleep.”

Yuuri sat up. “Never mind sleeping. I want to stay up with you,” he assured Victor. “Do you want some tea? It might help you calm down.”

“Yes, please.”

They went down to the kitchen together. Victor stood around while Yuuri set the kettle. He rearranged the items on the counter until Yuuri walked over to him with the tea.

“Here,” he held out a steaming mug and Victor took it.

The tea was warm, but not hot, making it easy to gulp down. Yuuri had added a slice of lemon to it like Auntie always had. The warm drink brought relief with it and Victor found himself calming down after downing half of the cup’s contents.

He looked over at Yuuri. The boy was drinking tea too.

 _I love you._ The thought was ready to spill out of him.

Yuuri caught his eye and set his cup down to walk over to Victor. “How are you feeling now?”

“Much better. Can I… Can I dance with you?” Victor asked, setting his own cup down next to Yuuri’s.

Yuuri nodded. Victor put their free skate music on and they danced like they had so many times in the studio – moving over the floor as they went through all the elements.

It wasn’t the same as moving on the ice, but it helped anyway. After enough steps Victor lost himself in the dance and thought more about the steps than his nightmare. Yuuri started to change the steps to try to catch him off guard.

It must’ve looked silly: two Olympic athletes dancing in their socks and pajamas in the kitchen in the middle of the night.

They finished with their arms around each other.

“This Olympics,” Yuuri said after a brief pause, “I’m going to skate for you.”

Victor stepped back and looked into Yuuri’s eyes. “And I will skate for you.”

Yuuri loved him. That was the feeling that lit his eyes up and made him break out into such a brilliant smile. It was the only explanation of why he did what he’d done, why he’d helped Victor through all his troubles, why he didn’t mind dancing so late at night and why he’d agreed to live with him. It all made sense, right?

Catching Yuuri’s head gently with both hands, Victor brought their mouths close and kissed Yuuri.

Yes, of course it all made sense and now it was up to Victor to show his love and give a confession Yuuri deserved and then have a grand wedding. And, hopefully, that would be enough to make up for all of Victor’s blunders in the past.

Yuuri broke the kiss. There was a sly grin on his face now. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want that gold medal,” he said.

Victor nodded with a laugh. Of course! Neither of them had any plans to give up, which was why in the weeks following Nationals they threw all their efforts into training.

The team Marie-France and Patrice had put together for them was there with them for many hours during the day. From coaching them in the gym to helping with their mental preparation, they left no area unaddressed.

Victor, certain that all he needed to do to sort their feelings out was to confess, stopped worrying about Yuuri’s response. Yuuri relied on him to do his part, so Victor did.

They put that trust to the test with one of the elements in their free skate: Victor did a backflip and leapt onto Yuuri’s shoulders as Yuuri spun with Victor’s thighs wrapped around his head. He had to keep the speed up until Victor climbed off him.

Their interviewers latched onto this element and asked them more than once what it was like to do something so risqué. Victor and Yuuri both gave the only answer they could think of: they trusted their partner to do what he was supposed to do.

 

They were packing for Pyeongchang when the phone call came through.

Victor took his phone out of his pocket and stared at the number in confusion. He didn’t recognize it. Who could be calling him right now?

“Hello?”

“Good afternoon. Am I speaking with Victor Nikiforov?” a polite voice asked.

Victor straightened up instinctively at the formality in the caller’s tone. “Yes… I am.”

“I am calling on behalf of the Canadian Olympic Committee.” Victor dropped into a chair, feeling panic rise in his chest.

Yuuri caught the expression on his face and rushed over to him in alarm. “Who is it?” he mouthed.

Victor, meanwhile was too busy trying to figure out which rule they’d violated and wondered if it was too late for an appeal.

“We have selected you and Yuuri Katsuki to be the flag bearers for the Canadian team,” the person announced.

Victor opened his mouth to beg for another chance and to promise to do anything when his brain realized what his ears had heard. “Flag bearers?” he repeated dumbly.

“Yes, or do you have some objections?” the caller asked.

“N-no!” Victor caught Yuuri’s eye and watched him raise his hand to his face in surprise. “It’s a… a great honour! Thank you!”

“Thank you,” the representative said. “You will get more instructions closer to the opening ceremony.”

“Thank you.”

“Have a good evening.”

“Y-you too.” Victor hung up and stared at Yuuri. “They want us to be flag bearers.”

There was a long moment of silence and then both men nearly leapt in the air. They threw their arms around each other.

“Flag bearers! Oh my god!” Yuuri exclaimed.

“Wait until Marie-France hears about this!” Victor announced and then called her, breaking out into excited French as soon as she answered.

Several hours later, they were celebrating together with their coaches in the little restaurant they only attended on special occasions, drinking a little and eating a lot. It was getting late. They were finishing off their wine, wishing the evening would stretch out forever.

Yuuri sat close enough to Victor for their thighs to touch and Victor rested one arm on the back of Yuuri’s chair as he held his glass in the other.

“I’m so happy right now,” Yuuri said, his eyes sparkling in the warm light.

On a whim, and possibly because he’d had too much to drink, Victor leaned in and planted a kiss on the boy’s cheek. “So am I.”

Yuuri lowered his eyes and then raised them again to meet Victor’s gaze.

There was a long silence as they stared at each other. Victor lowered his glass and put his hand over Yuuri’s.

“Well,” said Patrice, as he fumbled in his pocket for his wallet, “I’ll leave you lovebirds to it.”

“Yes. Good night!” Marie-France prepared to go as well.

“Good night!” Yuuri said, making no move to go. “We’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Yes.”

They all rose to exchange kisses and farewells and the coaches left.

Yuuri fiddled with his glass. He looked like someone who had something to say, but couldn’t find the courage to say it. Victor’s arm was on the back of the chair again, but not quite touching him.

Yuuri released the glass and turned to meet Victor’s eye. “Can I… Can I kiss you, please?” he whispered.

“Yes, of course.”

The kiss was warm and wine-flavoured, Yuuri’s hands found their way to Victor’s shoulders and stayed there. Victor’s heart raced. He was ready to leap into the air and do something foolish.

Slowly Yuuri’s fingers trailed over the collar of Victor’s shirt and to his face. Victor’s eyes were closed and every touch felt amplified a hundredfold. Yuuri’s lips were softer than ever against his. He let his hands move to Yuuri’s back.

After forever, or possibly 10 seconds (it was hard to tell), Yuuri released him. “Sorry, I got carried away,” he whispered, his hands still on Victor’s shoulders and his forehead touching Victor’s.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Victor said, his heart still refusing to slow down.

They caught a taxi back home and sat side by side in the back of the car, holding hands and exchanging smiles.

It was their last night here before their flight to South Korea. Maybe now was a better time for a confession. Why wait until the end of the Olympics?

A faint vibration startled Victor out of his half-awake state.

Yuuri released his hand and pulled his phone out of his pocket. Victor watched him read the message that came and panicked as Yuuri’s face fell.

“Yuri and Otabek won’t be competing in the team event,” Yuuri said and put his phone away. “Yuri sprained his ankle. There’s a chance they won’t compete at all.”

Wasn’t this supposed to be their first Olympics? Victor could imagine the disappointment and frustration Yuri felt. He remembered his own pain and sadness when he found out what had been wrong with his shins as well as the feeling that his body had betrayed him.

“Maybe it’s not too serious,” Victor said, “and he’ll heal in time to compete.”

“Hopefully.”

And then Victor realized that he, himself, was a little disappointed. He wanted a gold medal, yes, but he also wanted to win against the pair that had beaten them at the Grand Prix Final.

They talked about Yuri and Otabek the rest of the way back and Yuuri even considered calling them. Their date (if it could be called that) was entirely forgotten.

 

Pyeongchang was fascinating and, to Yuuri and Victor at least, was full of figure skating fans. They stumbled into them everywhere they went even in the Athlete’s Village.

They’d arrived early so they could get over their jet lag, but both had been unable to sleep and went out to explore the city and try the food instead.

They posed for a photo with a little girl and then she turned around and thanked them. “Mommy! Mommy, look! I got a photo with the…” she had to pause to get the words out properly, “…figure skating legends!”

Victor stared after her. He didn’t feel like a figure skating legend, but could he really argue with being called one? He opened his mouth and then closed it when no words came.

“Gosh!” Yuuri exclaimed softly. “When did we become figure skating legends?”

“Who knows?” Victor laughed, put an arm around Yuuri and pulled him closer. “Can I have your autograph, figure skating legend?”

Yuuri burst out into little giggles and raised his hand to his mouth to try to hold them back, but all with no luck.

 

The opening ceremony dazzled and amazed the audience, but Victor was only conscious of two things throughout the whole thing – the weight of the flag and how close Yuuri was to him.

They carried it together, walking side by side and never once did either of them tread on the other person’s foot or hit the other person with their arm or elbow.

Sure, they waved up at the crowd and cameras, but the flag flapped over their heads, as if they were carrying their own roof and it created the illusion that they were in a world cut off from everyone else.

And, when they finally stopped walking, Victor, unable to help himself, planted a kiss on Yuuri’s cheek.

Yuuri returned the kiss. “Can we get someone to take a picture of us?” he asked softly, his lips still a few tantalizing centimetres away.

“You mean apart from the media?”

Yuuri laughed in response.

“Let’s just take one ourselves,” Victor offered. He fished his phone out of his pocket, turned the camera on and held it out as far as he could. Yuuri pressed his lips to Victor’s cheek.

_Click_

“Should I post it?” Victor asked.

Yuuri nodded at a passing camera. “Someone probably already did.” Then, catching the expression on Victor’s face, he added, “Yes, please.”

For a second Victor hesitated. It had been an intimate moment, on the one hand, and on the other – he was pretty sure that everyone had seen that.

Under Yuuri’s watchful gaze he posted the photo with the caption “proud to be flag bearers.”

 

The next day they were out on the ice, practicing for the team event.

Most of their team was the same as it had been at the Sochi Olympics and, like for Victor and Yuuri, this was going to be their last competition before they retired. JJ was there again and they had a few lunches together.

“We’re all getting old,” he said and laughed to show that it was a joke.

Victor, who was a little touchy on the subject of age, just smiled.

The next day JJ got third place in the team event, securing the first 8 points for their team.

The team event was, once again, a close competition between the Canadian team and the Russian one (even if they weren’t officially the Russian team this time), but the team suffered due to Yuri and Otabek’s absence and didn’t do as well as it might have done otherwise.

 

“Yesterday we saw Gabrielle win 8 points for the team,” one of the commentators said as the cameras showed an empty ice rink right before the team scoreboard came up, “deciding the gold medal winner. Now the rest of the contestants are left to battle for silver and bronze.”

The second commentator spoke up, “And what a battle it’s been!”

“Today we come to the last segment of the team event – the ice dancing free skate. The first pair out on the ice is representing Japan…”

They kept up an impartial commentary until the time came for the last pair to come out onto the ice at which point both commentators got very carried away.

“And now for the main course,” the first commentator said. “In a few days’ time we’ll see this pair compete for the last time and… you know what? No matter what medal they win in their individual event, it will make them the most decorated figure skaters of all time!”

“Will it really?” the second one asked.

“Yeah, I checked.”

“Look at how together they are out on the ice!” the second pointed out. “I mean, of course you expect ice dancers to be together, but they have such good chemistry together it’s no wonder everyone is waiting for the big announcement!”

The first commentator laughed.

 

Victor’s mind remained obstinately on Yuuri, so that while his partner waved happily up at the audience as they skated out onto the middle of the ice Victor watched him, trying to guess his mood.

He couldn’t remember ever skating at a competition with complete certainty that he’d win gold. Sure, in the past he was often confident he’d win, but now it was a definite fact.

They hadn’t talked about it, but both of them would still try their hardest (even if they’d decided earlier to omit the risqué backflip and spin combination from their skate).

Yuuri and Victor split up to take their starting positions.

 _This is for you,_ Victor said with his eyes, _just you._

Yuuri just smiled back and Victor wondered if he’d seen and understood his expression.

 

“With this pair you can just sit back and enjoy the show,” the first commentator noted as the free skate reached the end.

“I’m going to miss them!” the second one exclaimed as if Yuuri and Victor were already leaving. “That was amazing and they never fail to deliver.”

“Yuri and Otabek fly in tonight. Let’s hope that Yuri’s ankle has healed, so we’ll get a real treat and see which pair is the best!”

“We definitely will!”

The cameras followed Yuuri and Victor’s trip to the kiss and cry where they got top scores from the judges.

They rose to their feet as all their team members ran in for a collective hug. Gold! They’d done it! They’d all done it!

 

Victor’s memory of the medal ceremony that followed was composed of snapshots – all of them on the podium singing the national anthem with their arms around each other, Yuuri holding his hand as he stepped down and then Victor holding the flag over both of their heads as Yuuri leaned in closer.

Yuuri’s eyes met Victor’s. “Do you want me to carry it?”

His lips were so close that Victor focused on them instead of what Yuuri had said. He leaned down and caught a kiss. Yuuri’s hands slipped up to his shoulders as he moved closer in response.

Yuuri pulled away slowly and smiled into Victor’s face.

“Uh… I….”

“You, lovebirds!” JJ exclaimed, skating past them. “But it is rather romantic, isn’t it?”

Victor followed the line of Yuuri’s eyelashes as he first lowered his eyes with a blush and then raised them again to meet Victor’s gaze. “It is,” Yuuri agreed without even looking at JJ.

Victor’s throat was dry.

“Do that again!” someone shouted.

They turned their heads and became conscious of the giant audience watching them with interest.

“I… uh…” Yuuri released Victor and moved away. “Uh…”

And Victor knew he wouldn’t get another kiss that night. “Who wants an autograph?” he called out with forced cheerfulness and then skated towards the loud cries of “me! me!”

 

Yuri and Otabek took lots of rest and then had a good practice session. Yakov watched his pupils prepare for the short program and tried not to think of the pair that had already won a gold medal at these Games. His pupils could still win and, what was more important, Yuri had learned his lesson. It was just a shame that it had been the hard way.

Sara and Michele Crispino finished their skate and accepted the applause from the audience for a job well done. Yakov didn’t have any time for it, of course, but he’d heard enough from his pupils to know that this pair posted videos of themselves all the time, as if determined to document their whole lives. Naturally, as Sara’s girlfriend, Mila was aware of every single one.

“I want you to focus on the performance,” Yakov told the both of them.

As one they nodded. The injury had knocked Yuri’s rebelliousness out of him, at least for now.

 _Maybe it will be like that saying – when there is no happiness, even misery will help,_ Yakov thought. “Now, go!”

“Next on the ice, representing Olympic Athletes from Russia – Yuri Plisetsky and Otabek Altin!”

The audience cheered and Yakov thought of the warmup. There had been no doubt then that Yuuri and Victor were still getting the warmest reception from the audience. In a way, they’d had time to win the audience over. But what did that matter if the audience wasn’t the one who would determine the winner?

All Yuri and Otabek had to worry about was pleasing the judges.

They went out and delivered the story of a deep love where both parties depended heavily on each other and Yakov forced himself to relax.

There was that softness in Yuri’s face that only ever appeared when he was out on the ice.

Otabek raised him and Yakov felt a wave of panic before he could even make sense of what he was seeing. Yuri’s costume got caught on Otabek’s, causing him to fumble and mess up the exit from the lift. By the time Yuri’s skates touched the ice he was furious. The presentation score was forgotten.

Yakov gripped the boards until he could feel them digging into the palms of his hands. Nothing short of a miracle could help them now.

They finished without further mistakes and prepared themselves for the worst.

In ice dancing the competition was so tight that one small mistake could be enough to send a pair all the way down to fourth place with little to no hope of making up for it in the free skate. But they’d done well with a difficult program and when the judges posted their scores at last they allowed themselves to hope that not all was lost.

Just over 80 points. Good enough to be in first place. At least for now.

Victor and Yuuri circled the rink. The fans in the stands were going wild. And how could they do otherwise? Here were the figure skating legends themselves – kind, very talented and rather handsome and, of course, which in the eyes of the fans was also very important – in a tender relationship with each other.

Someone waved a banner proclaiming their undying love for the skaters while Yuuri and Victor did what they always did – got lost in a world of their own.

Screams and exciting music filled the air and the pair broke out into a dance that was contagious enough to invite the audience to dance along.

 _“Please allow me to introduce myself,”_ a voice sang and Yakov wondered at this choice of song. They needed no introduction. Anyone who was following figure skating even the least little bit knew about them. From what he’d heard, back home they’d become two celebrities.

Two minutes later they finished with an air of utter triumph, grinning widely and looking like two people on top of the world. Yes, they needed no introduction, but if they had needed one – this one would’ve been perfect.

Yakov watched them bounce from excitement in the kiss and cry and then jump to their feet as they broke the world record yet again. 83.67 points!

There was no arguing with those marks and Yakov thought sadly of his pupils.

 

Practice for ice dancers was scheduled for that morning and the pairs all took their turns to go over every bit of their programs, sharpening whatever needed to be sharpened, polishing anything that needed a polish.

Yuuri and Victor got partway through and then fumbled on the twizzles.

Yuuri stopped and caught Victor by the hands. “Again,” he demanded.

They started from the beginning, got to the twizzle sequence and kept going until the end.

“Let’s just repeat the twizzles,” Victor suggested. “They felt a bit off.”

Yuuri nodded.

Both skaters spun and moved over the ice in synch with each other.

“Again,” Yuuri said as soon as they both stopped moving.

Twizzles.

“Again,” now it was Victor’s turn to demand another sequence.

They couldn’t afford a single mistake. They had to get this right.

Twizzles. Stop.

“From the top?” both of them asked and then both nodded.

Marie-France and Patrice watched from the sidelines, joking with each other that they weren’t really needed.

“They’re each other’s coaches now,” Marie-France said with a soft laugh.

They didn’t stop until their allotted time ended and everyone had to leave. They hadn’t gone to their coaches even once the whole time, as if forgetting they were there.

Victor and Yuuri stepped off the ice and talked about the program, going over the story and how they would show it in each part. They were repeating what they’d said before, but spoke as if they were saying the words for the first time.

Suddenly Victor cut in with, “Do you know who I spotted in the audience yesterday?”

“No,” Yuuri shook his head. “Who?”

“Guess.” Victor’s eyes twinkled mischievously as he spotted the person in question coming towards them.

“Hello, Yuuri! Hello, Victor!” a familiar voice called out.

Yuuri turned and nearly jumped. “Celestino!”

Their old coach hugged both skaters. “One of my students made it to the Olympics this year, so I thought I’d come and watch you compete as well.” He gave each of them a careful look. “I’m glad it gave me this chance to wish you both good luck.”

Both skaters thanked him as warmly as they could.

They made their way down to the change rooms together.

“I’ve followed your progress through the years, of course,” the coach went on. “I can’t believe this is it.”

Victor and Yuuri exchanged a look.

“Yeah,” Victor breathed out, “I suppose got used to the idea in Sochi.”

“So definitely no coming back for the 2022 Olympics?” Celestino asked and then laughed. The sound was like a loud boom, but it brought back so many memoires.

If he closed his eyes he could imagine for a moment that he was back at the Ilderton Arena, learning twizzles with Yuuri and preparing for their first big competition. He could still remember the big mittens Yuuri used to wear because his hands were always cold.

Yuuri’s hand slipped into his and Victor knew that his thoughts were going along the same lines.

“Sometimes I find it hard to believe that there was a time when you two were little and couldn’t do the simplest lift!” Celestino exclaimed, showing that he saw all too well what was going through their minds. “Or,” he laughed again, “or that I once coached two Olympic champions!”

Yuuri blushed and Victor put an arm around his shoulders. “Thank you for everything, coach,” he said.

Yuuri met his old coach’s gaze. “Yes, thank you so much for everything!”

“Really, I don’t think you need to thank me. I should be thanking you for such an honour.”

With a little pang of panic, Victor noticed the few grey hairs peeking out here and there through the man’s thick brown mane. Time hadn’t stopped for the man, just as it hadn’t stopped for him and Yuuri.

“Don’t treat this like the end,” Celestino went on. “I hope you will find other ways to change the world.”

Victor hadn’t thought about that and didn’t know what to say now. All his thoughts, all his hopes had focused on his confession and proposal to Yuuri. He hadn’t thought beyond it. More than that, his plans all assumed Yuuri would say yes. He didn’t dare think what he’d do, if Yuuri didn’t. _Don’t worry about that now. Everything will be fine._

“Here I am rambling like an old man!” Celestino exclaimed and laughed. “Go! Get some rest and win that gold medal!”

They left, throwing a glance back at him before closing the door to the change room behind them.

“Everyone is here,” Yuuri whispered, stopping Victor on the other side of the door.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

Svetlana had come with their parents and their siblings this time. And the siblings had brought their whole families with them. This was meant to be their final moment and everyone had come to see it. They hadn’t all been able to make it to Sochi, but now here they all were. Things had worked out in such a way that all of their past coaches were here.

“We can do it,” Victor whispered. “I’ll skate for you, for everything you’ve done for me. I won’t let you down, I promise.”

Yuuri held one of Victor’s hands with both of his own while Victor brushed his hair aside with his free hand. “I haven’t done anything for you,” Yuuri countered.

“You have.”

“Victor, I –”

The door swung open and hit Victor, making him jump. They apologized to the skaters on the other side and went to change.

“Are you alright?” Yuuri asked as he picked up his clothes.

“Yeah,” Victor rubbed his back, but most of the pain was already gone.

There were only a few hours left until the competition and the moment when he’d have to confess. Just a little more…

 

Yuri and Otabek ironed out their free skate in practice that morning. If they delivered a perfect skate it was still possible to win and, so, they concentrated all their energies on that. Everything else wasn’t important and had to take a back seat.

Yakov watched his pupils focus all their efforts on winning and gave them all the advice he could think of, coming dangerously close to giving general life advice.

They went out on the ice and conquered their free skate routine without a single mistake and set two world records ending up with a new highest score of 205.28 points.

But the audience was chanting for Yuuri and Victor. “Roxanne!” they demanded impatiently. “Roxanne!”

 

Yuuri set his bottle down. The audience was shouting something, but neither he nor Victor were paying it the slightest bit of attention.

“This is for you,” they said to each other, holding hands and joining their foreheads, “all for you.”

They circled the ice and Victor slipped into his persona for the skate, giving the audience and then Yuuri a seductive smile. Yuuri returned it and Victor’s heart beat faster.

They took positions opposite each other. Victor curved one leg around the other and raised his arms. He was in deep red and was wearing lipstick to match.

Yuuri was in dark blue. The lifts and choreography had determined who would play who in this skate, but Victor was sure that his costume would suit Yuuri better. Maybe they could try switching roles later.

For a moment it went silent. This was it. It was now or never. There was no turning back now.

Their music began to play and they stood still until they heard the voice.

_“Another hero, another mindless crime_

_Behind the curtain, in the pantomime.”_

They circled each other and Victor jumped onto Yuuri who spun him around. Victor got down onto the ice and kept spinning before Yuuri stopped him.

A violin rang out and Victor gave a quick shudder of his shoulders as Yuuri’s hands slid over him.

The bewitching tune carried them away, pulling them into the dance and Victor played his part as best as he could.

Next came the twizzle sequence that had given them so much trouble.

_“Will drive you! Will drive you! Will drive you! Mad!”_

They raised their arms, _“Roxanne!”_ they lowered them and stopped to punctuate the note on the last syllable.

The audience screamed.

_“You don't have to put on the red light.”_

He moved easily over the ice, seducing everyone as Yuuri followed him and played the part of the love-struck admirer.

Victor promised himself to everyone and no one, as if he couldn’t see Yuuri and still Yuuri followed.

_“His eyes upon your face_

_His hand upon your hand_

_His lips caress your skin_

_It's more than I can stand!”_

There was something haunting about the violins in this part of the music, but Victor didn’t have time to think about that now.

The daring backflip and spin combination was back and he concentrated his thoughts on it instead. The combination worked too well with the skate for them to leave it out.

Roxanne jumped into things without a care for the consequences, not worried that the end was coming. _Let it come, I don’t care,_ Victor’s whole self seemed to say, but Yuuri held him, dependable as always.

The music changed and they grew closer, leaning in towards each other with a gentleness that hadn’t been there before. Roxanne fell in love even as her time was running out.

 _“Suddenly my life doesn´t seem such a waste,”_ Victor sang along, the words echoing deep in his soul.

Roxanne handed her whole self over.

_“Storm clouds may gather_

_And stars may collide.”_

Victor turned around and took Yuuri’s hands. Their eyes met.

 _“I love you,”_ Victor sang along to the first voice.

 _“I love you,”_ the second voice in the song repeated as if to answer Victor.

 _“Until the end of time,”_ both voices sang together and so did Victor.

Victor placed his foot on Yuuri’s thigh and Yuuri helped him up into the lift. Victor raised both arms. _“Come what may.”_ It was Roxanne’s moment of triumph, but it was short-lived.

Her time was ending. She was glad to have had the chance to love and never regretted it for an instant. Roxanne’s movements became less graceful with every passing minute as if staying upright was getting too difficult. Victor dropped back in Yuuri’s hands at the last note as death claimed Roxanne.

The audience erupted with cheers and screams.

Victor got up and looked at Yuuri. They joined foreheads and wept. This was it – their last moment. For real this time.

Yuuri pulled away and jumped up with a triumphant cry and everyone picked it up. It rolled through the arena. Victor echoed the cry, feeling like he was still soaring.

They held each other close again and rocked a little from side to side.

“Yes! We did it!” Victor exclaimed. “We did it, Yuuri!”

“We did!”

They pulled apart and Victor saw tears in Yuuri’s eyes.

 _Oh, come what may, I will love you until my dying day,_ he thought and wiped a tear off Yuuri’s cheek.

“Let’s go,” Yuuri whispered.

They remembered to bow to everyone before leaving the ice and waved up to the rejoicing crowd. What were marks in comparison to this?

Victor’s heart sang. Feeling still a little in his character of Roxanne and hearing the chanting all around them, he gave the audience a playful wink.

“My Roxanne!” Marie-France called out and he turned his head in time to catch sight of Yuuri getting a big hug from both their coaches.

Victor joined in with a laugh.

“That was beautiful!” Marie-France went on, slipping into French. She always did when she got too emotional. Usually at competitions she tried to stick to English, Victor wasn’t sure why, maybe it was for the audience.

“Very beautiful!” Patrice echoed.

They sat down on the benches, but were up on their feet almost right away, as soon as they saw the marks.

“At 206.07 points we see a new world record for the total score just minutes after the previous pair broke it!”

First! The word echoed in Victor’s head over and over again as the music refused to sink in properly. First!

The people around them became a giant mass of congratulations. Victor received hugs from everyone around him. More and more people spilled into the kiss and cry. Suddenly his teammates and family were all there.

“We did it!” Yuuri exclaimed, his hands over his face. “I can’t believe it!”

“Another gold medal!” someone shouted.

In that big sea of people Victor only saw Yuuri’s delighted face and his glowing eyes.

_This was all for you and no one else. I’m going to marry you after this. I should’ve booked a good venue and made preparations for the grandest, most expensive wedding imaginable._

He had to do it as soon as he got the chance. There was no avoiding it now, no excuse – he had to do it before the day ended.

He waited patiently for the medal ceremony and watched the tears roll down Yuuri’s cheeks as they stood on the podium together.

Victor imagined proposing outside under a sky full of stars, but when he jumped off the podium and held out his hand to Yuuri he knew that the moment had come and he couldn’t wait a second longer.

“Yuuri, I love you!”

His eyes widened in surprise.

Somewhere in another world Yuri swore and complained, but Victor didn’t pay him any attention.

“I love you,” he said again, heart beating fast. It felt so good to confess at last. Hwy had he waited all these years? Why hadn’t he said it earlier? “I should’ve said it every moment of every day. You have every right to be angry that I didn’t.” He paused and – oh the hell with it! – said it again. “I love you and I want to marry you, if you’re willing to take me.”

Yuuri’s face wasn’t full of joy. There was surprise there and something else that Victor didn’t dare name.

Victor’s heart fell. Was it possible that he was wrong? Was it possible that after all these years together he hadn’t learned how to understand Yuuri and had mistaken his feelings of close friendship for those of love?

Around him the world crumbled apart in the space of one second and his medal lost all its meaning, becoming nothing more than a shiny round thing on a ribbon. He held his breath and waited to be turned down and pushed away and wished he’d never confessed. Why did he ever think it was a good idea?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Come what may" right, Victor?
> 
> Routines mentioned in this chapter:  
> [Short program](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IaqRqFAG7zU)
> 
> There actually are two different versions of the Moulin Rouge routine:  
> [First Version](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U8KF6aucxT4)  
> [Version at the Olympics](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wOEKdWrtz6U)
> 
> ...Also 130k was my goal for this fic, so I don't need to write chapter 21 now, right?


	21. Twenty Years

Over the course of his skating career Yuuri had given so many interviews that it was impossible to remember which one had happened when, but nearly all of them were filled with little moments that he carried forever in his heart.

_They stood back to back for this interview. Or, rather, not interview – it was a variation on the newlyweds game he’d played many times with Victor for different news channels. The interviewer would ask a question and they’d raise their hand as an answer. The trick was to give the same answer without looking at each other._

_They started with a simple one. “Who is a morning person?”_

_Yuuri pointed over his shoulder at Victor, having no doubts whatsoever that Victor had his hand raised._

_The next few questions weren’t that interesting and Yuuri answered as honestly as before, waiting patiently for the interview to end._

_“Who tells the worst jokes?”_

_He raised his hand and then, unable to resist, turned to see if Victor was pointing at him._

_Victor’s hand was also raised. “Are we asking about who is the worst at telling jokes, or whose jokes are actually terrible?”_

_Yuuri met his eye with a smile. He was no good at telling jokes and so he’d raised his hand, thinking that was the question._

_“I have these really_ bad _jokes,” Victor admitted. “They make people cringe.”_

I like your jokes, _Yuuri thought._ I don’t remember any bad ones.

_But Victor went on, derailing the interview until the interviewer got impatient and asked them to stand back to back again._

_“Tell us, Yuuri, what are the three qualities you value most in a person?” someone asked in another interview._

_He thought of the night before when he and Victor laughed so hard Yuuri’s stomach was ready to burst._

_“A good sense of humour,” he began._

_His next memory was of the many competitions they’d been in together and it brought to mind two more qualities._

_“Confidence and competence.” He turned his head and met Victor’s eye. Had he painted a faithful portrait?_

_Victor looked thoughtful._

Maybe it sounds like an odd choice, _Yuuri admitted to himself._ I should’ve answered more truthfully.

_But what truth would he have said then? That anyone could pick any three of Victor’s qualities and they would’ve made a good answer?_

_More than that, Yuuri was certain that Victor had a long list of qualities and no flaws whatsoever. Maybe that was the reason Yuuri felt the way he did about Victor, or – quite possibly – it was the other way around._

_On the other hand, it meant that it wasn’t easy to treat Victor as a boyfriend._

_Flirt, Marie-France had said, and Yuuri admitted to himself that he’d never flirted with Victor, not really, not the way people did in all those romance movies he’d watched with Victor when they went on those double dates. But he could pretend, couldn’t he? And it was easy to do it with Victor right there in front of him. Not easier, as it soon turned out. Despite everything, he was a little embarrassed of doing this in front of Victor._

_It took all his courage to flirt and even more to keep going when he saw Victor’s reaction._

_He was sure something would happen afterwards, something more than just kissing, but it never got that far and so he wondered. Maybe Victor didn’t want to take things further._

_That Victor wasn’t confident enough to make his move was a possibility that never even occurred to him. And, yet, the signs were all there. Yuuri should’ve known this better than anyone._

_“I dreamt that you left me,” Victor said and the words stung Yuuri._

But I’m right here, _Yuuri thought._ I’ve always been here and I have no plans to go anywhere. _“I’ll never leave you, I promise,” he said, his voice full of feeling._

_But for some reason, it only made Victor cry harder._

Doesn’t he believe me? Or does he really think I’m just saying it to make him feel better?

_They went downstairs and had tea together and Yuuri watched Victor calm down over time._

_As they danced and flirted Yuuri became convinced that the fear wasn’t due to Victor’s lack of faith in Yuuri’s feelings for him, but simply due to the lasting impression left behind by the dream. Of course Victor knew Yuuri wouldn’t leave him. It was obvious to everyone. It was, after all, the reason Yuuri had moved in with him._

_When they talked about living together the idea that it would help save money, or that it was just a continuation of a habit they’d formed during their time in St. Petersburg didn’t even occur to him._

_When Victor talked about buying a house Yuuri accepted it all as if nothing could be more natural. Who else would Yuuri live with? He wasn’t going to move in with his parents and there was just no way he’d be able to live all alone, even if it was in an apartment next to Victor’s._

_So he enjoyed the move to the fullest – picking out a house, buying furniture, getting it all ready. He was actually doing it: he was settling down to the life with Victor he’d always wanted._

_And then there were the late night dates and the accident that led to them buying one bed for the both of them and still Yuuri waited for Victor to make his move._

_He’d been waiting for almost a year ever since that first double date._

_Anya beamed as she announced her idea to the three skaters with her, “You know what we should do? We need to go on a double date!”_

_Yuuri panicked, worried that Victor would say something like “we’re not dating”, but, to his surprise, Victor agreed._

_And then Yuuri realized that it had been a long time since Victor protested that they weren’t dating. Was it possible? Did it mean that Victor saw them as boyfriends at last?_

_Yuuri got his confirmation in the theatre – as soon as Georgi and Anya started kissing Victor asked for a kiss as well and Yuuri, always waiting and always ready, was all too happy to oblige._

I love you, _he thought desperately and wondered if now was a good time to confess._

_But why waste their time confessing, if they both already understood this? They’d been taught to talk things out, but only to clear situations up. This time it was obvious that words weren’t needed._

_Kisses with Victor were special. No two kisses were ever the same – there was the kiss Yuuri had caught in the stairwell, for example, and then there was that wonderful moment when they won their first Olympic gold._

_All of Yuuri’s joy, all the excitement of having achieved a childhood dream, everything rose inside him all at once and found its release in the kiss he pressed against Victor’s mouth._

We did it!

_In that moment Yuuri was the happiest being on Earth, he was sure of it._

_And later when he managed to release Victor and remembered that they weren’t alone he felt very little embarrassment of what he’d done. It had been too true to what he felt for him to be embarrassed by it._

_It hadn’t been a chaste kiss either. How could it have been chaste after he’d learned how amazing it was to taste Victor as they kissed?_

_The request for a passionate kiss caught Yuuri off guard. He hadn’t made a single move on Victor, frightened of getting pushed away and convinced that he wasn’t good enough to be Victor’s boyfriend._

_“I want to skate with you for the rest of my life,” Victor told him and Yuuri’s heart beat faster at the words. His mouth opened for a confession he hadn’t planned to give. “At every single competition we can qualify for,” Victor clarified._

_Oh. Yes, of course. Yuuri stared down at his hands. “Me too,” he agreed._ And not just at competitions, everywhere there is an ice rink we’re allowed to visit.

_And then Victor said it, “Can I kiss you?”_

_Yuuri raised his head at the sound of those words. Was it possible that Victor had meant the same thing Yuuri did? The confession rose to his lips a second time._

_“I… I was just thinking: we haven’t done more than a kiss on the cheek. What if… what if we want to have a passionate kiss? Uh… mouth to mouth?” Victor stammered out. He turned away and added, “Sorry, it was a stupid idea.” So that’s what it was: just idle curiosity._

_“Do you really want to?” Yuuri whispered, ready to do whatever Victor asked for, even if it hurt him deep inside._

_Victor’s face turned deep red as he nodded._

_Yuuri took Victor’s face with both hands and pressed his lips against his partner’s. He moved closer, gathering all his courage and opened his mouth._

_Victor’s hands slid around Yuuri, stopping over his shoulder blades._

_Yuuri felt as if he was falling. There was that urge for more – moving closer and touching Victor more, but he held himself back. Victor just wanted a kiss and nothing more._

_It took a lot of effort to pull free. “Is that alright?” he asked._

_Victor opened his eyes. “Yes…”_

_Yuuri did his best to hide his face, convinced that it would give away everything that he felt inside. If only they were dating, then he wouldn’t have to bury his feelings like this!_

_They were in the hotel room, lying on their beds, when Victor said the words Yuuri didn’t dare utter aloud, “I think… I think our parents are convinced we’re dating.”_

_Luckily for him, Yuuri was facing away from Victor, making it easier for him to hide his reaction to this announcement._

_There was panic, yes, but also a kind of thrill. He wanted more than anything for Victor to like him back and date him, but despite everything lacked the courage to speak up about it. Could it be? Was Victor about to suggest that they should?_

_“It’s not just them. It’s pretty much everyone. Chris keeps asking me when we’re getting married and all those reporters won’t stop asking the same questions. Well, you know that, but…” Always his friend! Was it Yuuri’s imagination, or was Victor mentioning him more lately?_

No, no, I can’t be jealous, _Yuuri told himself. Chris would’ve made his move, if he’d been interested in Victor._ I’m sure I would be the first to know if Victor was dating anyone. _He clenched his fists._

_Yuuri held his breath and waited to hear what Victor would say next._

_“Yuuri?”_

_“Yes?” He was sure that his heart would jump out of his chest any minute now._

_“I can’t sleep.”_

_“Me neither,” Yuuri admitted._

_It was at moments like these that Yuuri wondered if somehow he and Victor shared the same soul. It was an odd thought and one he’d only started to have recently, but after hearing it from Phichit, he couldn’t stop thinking about it._

_Soulmates._

_“Do you think… Maybe if… if we push our beds together and hold hands we could sleep?”_

_At the sound of Victor’s suggestion Yuuri almost leapt into the air._

_Yes! Yes of course! Yuuri lost count of the number of nights when he wished he could sleep side by side with Victor, just barely touching him and nothing more._

_He got up and moved his bed up to Victor’s, as if afraid that Victor would change his mind and take his words back. He lay down, facing Victor this time._

_“How is that?” he whispered and worried that he’d gone too far in some way._

_“Much better,” Victor said and took Yuuri’s hands._

_They stared at each other’s eyes in the semi-darkness of the room. The light from outside fell over Victor’s face and made his hair shine. He was beautiful._

_Victor reached for Yuuri’s face and trailed his fingers over Yuuri’s lips._

_“Victor…”_ Please. _He wanted a kiss more than anything, but he didn’t dare start one._

_It was warm and peaceful here, under the blankets. Unable to resist the urge to touch Victor, Yuuri’s fingers traced out the line of Victor’s nose, his eyebrows and the curve of his lips. There was so much in his heart he was afraid it would burst. His fingers slipped into Victor’s hair as if Yuuri wasn’t in control of them anymore._

_Victor closed his eyes._

_“Sleep…” Yuuri whispered and watched Victor breathe slower._

_“Yeah…” Victor agreed and drifted off._

_Yuuri resisted the urge to shift closer. He closed his eyes and let sleep take him._

_Yuuri wasn’t sure when he started to really notice everything about Victor. His feelings for Victor had been more abstract before then, but over time he became aware of all the things about Victor that he really liked. Many of these included traits that Yuuri himself didn’t have._

_He took note of the way Victor’s face lit up when he smiled. Victor was confident and didn’t doubt his abilities, but he wasn’t arrogant._

How did I ever think I could skate with anyone else? _Yuuri asked himself as he lay on his bed, curled up on his side. He closed his eyes and imagined Victor turning around, his long hair streaming behind him._

_Yuuri clutched his hand over his heart. Every day the feeling there got stronger, like a plant that had rooted itself in place grows larger and greener with every passing day._

_He allowed himself to nurture the feeling._ I’m grateful for every day. Who else can say that they see Victor as much as I do? Even mother and father don’t spend the better part of every day together. I dare not hope for more. I’m not allowed to hope for more.

_Besides, what did more mean?_

_Yuuri remembered a movie he’d seen where the main couple professed their love for each other before exchanging a kiss. He ducked his head under the pillow as if hiding from some unseen observer in his room._

_He could never do that!_

_Sometimes when he went somewhere with Victor and the people spoke to him, assuming Yuuri couldn’t understand them at all, Yuuri felt as if he’d followed Victor across the Atlantic and not as if they’d moved together._

_Maybe it was because that was how people treated them, assuming Victor was a local and Yuuri – merely a visitor._

_What was most disorienting about their move? That their new home was with a stranger? Or that it was in a country entirely unknown to them? Maybe it was the language with its different alphabet?_

_Yuuri was terrified. He felt lost amid it all and as Victor translated what his great aunt said Yuuri felt like an intruder. No, worse than an intruder – like a burden. Was it right to come here like this? At least Victor was family, but he, Yuuri, was just his skating partner and had no claim on the aunt’s hospitality._

_They slipped out for groceries and Yuuri saw the look on Victor’s face as he took in all the food in the packaging covered with unfamiliar letters._

_Victor was just as lost as Yuuri was. Everything was equally strange and new to him._

_Yuuri wasn’t lost alone. He had Victor with him and wasn’t that enough?_

_“We need to learn Russian fast,” he whispered as he took in the look of concern on the face that was so dear to him. “Until then I can’t even leave the house without you.”_

_Victor agreed. Of course he did and when he smiled to reassure Yuuri that they could do it for sure, Yuuri felt his heart beat faster. After all, they learned everything in life from skating to mundane everyday things together._

_It only took one lesson to show Yuuri how much fun lifts were and, odd as it sounded, most of their fun was derived from getting the chance to hold Victor up. Victor never saw it that way, of course, but Yuuri couldn’t help feeling it was a touch romantic to carry him around._

_But the big payoff came after that first day of practicing lifts._

_“Wow, Yuuri! You’re so strong!” Victor exclaimed._

_Yuuri watched his eyes light up in admiration and flushed with a bit of pride. “I can do all the lifts, if you like.”_

_“It’s a deal,” Victor promised and took Yuuri’s hands with both of his own._

_Unable to make his voice obey him, Yuuri merely nodded._

_Victor spent the rest of the day praising Yuuri, convinced for some reason that he was the stronger one out of the two of them._

_The two skaters never insulted each other’s skating of course, but rarely did they praise each other like this and, so, Yuuri had no idea how to take it from his partner._

_Afterwards he did his best to remember to praise Victor too._

_It happened at their second junior competition and it left such a lasting impression on Yuuri that whenever he thought back to it he felt a wave of nausea rise in his throat._

_Yuuri sat next to Victor and untied his skates, full of anticipation of the rest they’d get after this competition._

_For a while the change room was filled with a heavy silence of the kind that you get when there are lots of people in the same room who don’t say a word to each other._

_Finally one of the skaters threw a disgusted look at her partner. “We could’ve won, if it hadn’t been for you!” she snapped. “How do you always manage to screw up the bits we practice the most?” She berated him, as if there was no one else there, or as if she didn’t care who overheard her._

_Yuuri rushed as he pulled his shoes on, eager to be gone as soon as possible. He met Victor’s eye and saw the same worry niggling at him. Sure, there was that spring several years ago when they had a lot of fights, but those were fights over games and past times, they were never like this!_

_Mr. Cialdini had taught them to consider themselves a team and teammates never blamed each other and if they did, then never in front of others. Yet this skater…_

_Yuuri flushed with embarrassment for her and her partner._

_Victor took his hand and Yuuri raised his head, reclining he’d just been sitting there with his head lowered and his eyes downcast._

_“Let’s go,” Victor said._

_Yuuri nodded._

_He wanted to go outside. The fresh air would clear his head, he was sure of it. But he started to shake so violently that Victor had to hold him in a hug until he stopped._

_“Yuuri…” he murmured, rubbing Yuuri’s back soothingly._

_“I think I’m going to be sick,” Yuuri whispered._

_Victor led him to the bathroom, but Yuuri asked to be taken outside instead._

_The fresh air calmed him down just as he’d hoped and he took huge gulps of it with his eyes closed._

_Victor held him close, as if worried that if he let go something would happen to Yuuri._

_“Thank you,” Yuuri said, his eyes still closed. “You’re the best partner anyone could ask for.”_

_Victor gave him a peck on the cheek. “No, you are,” he countered._

_Yuuri’s feelings rose in his chest, threatening to overwhelm him. But Yuuri had resolved to say nothing and remained silent now._

_“Do you feel better now?” Victor asked softly._

_Yuuri nodded._

_They didn’t need to say anything about the quarrelling skaters. They both knew too well what they thought about that kind of behaviour._

_So they spent the rest of their free time that evening marvelling at all nature had to offer them, starting from the beautiful sunset and ending with the starry sky._

_Yuuri was staying over at Victor’s house that day. They played hide and seek in the house and then Victor remembered about the board game he’d gotten for his birthday and brought it out for them to play. They sat on the floor of his room with the board splayed out between them, covered in lots of little pieces._

_Victor won every time, but Yuuri didn’t mind as long as he was allowed to go on playing with his friend._

_After another round Victor turned his head and exclaimed loudly. “Look at that!” He ran off and Yuuri followed him, as curiosity bubbled inside him._

_There were beautiful pictures on the windows as if someone had drawn them out of the glass itself._

_“It’s so pretty!” Yuuri exclaimed. “What is it?”_

_“It’s frost,” Victor told him. “Haven’t you seen it before?”_

_“No.” Yuuri shook his head._

_“We get it every winter,” Victor boasted as if he’d drawn the pictures himself. “It’s made out of ice and mommy said that you only get it when it gets really cold outside.”_

_It was also cold inside, Yuuri noticed with a shudder._

_Victor blew on the glass and grinned at the sight of it fogging up. “Look, Yuuri!” He made two dots and added a curved line with his finger to make a smiling face._

_Yuuri blew on the glass and wrote his name on the glass._

_Victor reached over and added “+ Victor” under it._

_For several minutes, they contemplated what they’d made in silence._

_The doorbell rang downstairs. It was followed by the sound of a door opening and the murmur of voices, too distant to be made out clearly. Then Victor’s mother called out to the boys to tell them that Yuuri’s mother was here to pick Yuuri up._

_Victor bolted out of the room with a loud dismayed cry._

_Yuuri remained at the window. He could hear Victor pleading for permission for Yuuri to stay overnight. But Yuuri’s eyes were still on their names on the window. Already the fogged up glass was clearing up._

_Yuuri blew on it to make the writing a little clearer, reached out, hesitated and finally drew a big heart to encase their names._

_The first night at the ballet summer school was hard. Yuuri wasn’t allowed to call anyone and he didn’t have any friends here, so there was absolutely no one for him to talk to. He had a very small and very bare room, which meant that there wasn’t even any distraction to be found there._

_He knew he was expected to sleep, but how could he hope to sleep all alone like this, cut away from the world?_

_He searched through his things until he found what Victor had given him._

_It was the little photo showing Victor grinning. The camera had done a poor job of capturing him with all his energy and excitement. He sat still, a little stiffly even, like a person for whom sitting still came as a big challenge._

_Yuuri turned it over and read the inscription for the hundredth time. “To the bestest partner in the world,” he whispered and slid his fingers over the words._

_Something about the photo created the illusion that Victor was there with him. He promised himself to always keep it close like some kind of lucky charm, or a form of protection. (He kept this promise. The photo stayed in Yuuri’s wallet, or in his phone case without Victor ever finding out.)_

_Love, that was what the feeling was. But, even if it took him some time to work it out, it didn’t change the fact that Yuuri really felt it._

_That was why every fight hurt and it was made even more painful by the realization that not only did Victor no understand how he felt, but Yuuri would never find the courage to tell him._

_Yuuri was jealous. He couldn’t help the feeling and it spread to everything around Victor – the games he liked, the school friends he had and whatever new obsession was in control of his mind now. Yuuri couldn’t help it. He was Victor’s skating partner and he wanted all that attention for himself even while he understood that he couldn’t have all of it all the time._

_It was some time before Yuuri could get over his feelings._

Victor doesn’t owe me all his attention, _he told himself._ He’s allowed to like different things. _Yuuri lowered his head onto his hands._ He’s allowed not to like me.

_“Yuuri, I… I don’t want to go out with you anymore!” Victor exclaimed and hung up._

_The dial tone droned on for several seconds and then the receiver slipped out of Yuuri’s hand and tumbled onto the floor._

_Tears rolled down Yuuri’s cheeks. It hurt. It really, really hurt. His chest tightened, making breathing almost impossible. He wanted to lock himself away from everyone and never see another person ever again._

_He knew that most of the adults treated it as a game and he wasn’t sure if Victor saw it the same way, but those words showed it plainly to Yuuri that Victor wanted him to go away and never return._

_It hadn’t been a game for Yuuri. If it had been a game, he wouldn’t have been in so much pain, he was sure of it._

_He knew all too well the feeling of disappointment that came with ending a game that had been fun. This was different._

_He’d gotten used to the idea of dating Victor and had spent hours imagining the two of them married with a house. A few times he’d let his imagination run away and paint images of other details of their life together._

_Now all those images lay broken on the ground._

_“I don’t want to go out with you anymore!” the words echoed accusingly around the room as if Yuuri had been guilty of some crime. Maybe he was. Maybe he’d done something really bad and that was the reason that Victor didn’t want to date him anymore._

_But, try as he might, Yuuri couldn’t think of a single thing he’d done that could be the reason for this._

Maybe he just doesn’t like me anymore, _Yuuri thought sadly. And there was no changing that._

_He refused to leave the house, telling his parents that he was sick and that he didn’t want to see anyone. He missed school and skating lessons as he tried to nurse his broken heart, but all with no luck._

How can anyone like me? _he thought as he contemplated his reflection._ I don’t even like me.

_But a few days later Victor came and told Yuuri that he’d only meant that instead of boyfriends they’d become best friends and Yuuri rejoiced._

_Still, deep inside he knew that this wasn’t enough and that he wanted more. He didn’t admit his feelings to anyone, but one morning he overheard two girls talking and it gave him hope._

_Maybe one day Victor would change his mind and date Yuuri again. All he had to do was wait._

_Victor was unlike anyone else. His skating was beautiful and unforgettable. Just seeing it once left a lasting impression. Victor was energetic and always ready with something new. In short, he was Yuuri’s opposite in so many ways. Maybe that was why Yuuri was so drawn to him._

_When Yuuri saw Victor skate for the first time he felt his mouth drop open in amazement._

_Long silvery-blond hair trailing behind him, Victor moved as if he was soaring above the ground._

I want to skate like that! _Yuuri thought and, so, he took ballet lessons to become more graceful. When, several years later, Victor told him that he wasn’t as graceful as Yuuri, Yuuri couldn’t believe his ears._

_He reached for Victor’s level, thinking of it at first as competitiveness. He wanted to be better than Victor, he told himself, and only later he figured out that this was wrong. He wanted to be as good as Victor and he wanted both of them to get better than everyone else because, more than anything, he wanted to be together with Victor._

 

Yuuri watched Victor confess his feelings, unable to suppress his surprise and then Victor made his proposal. How like Victor to pick the most showy way to do it!

“I love you and I want to marry you, if you’re willing to take me.”

Surprise gave way to frustration. Didn’t Victor know? Had all these years together meant nothing? How can there possibly be any doubt in his mind about Yuuri’s answer?

“Victor, I loved you since we first dated as kids,” Yuuri admitted, sounding very serious. “I thought you knew.” _I’ve been waiting for you ever since._

Victor’s face, which had twisted in fear as soon as he’d finished talking, spread in a relieved smile.

“But, Victor,” Yuuri went on and Victor stiffened. “Didn’t all these years mean anything to you? As I see it, we’ve been married for several years already.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I just write all that just to make this ridiculous joke? Yes, of course I did! That’s how I roll hahaha
> 
> Here’s to another finished fic! And another fic over 100k words too! I don’t know how many people care about this kind of thing, but I was looking over what I have (so far) and realized that many of my longer fics fall into the 50-70k words range. I’m working on a fic for the Victuuri Fluff Bang which I think will be roughly 100k when I’m done. We’ll see (especially since I only have a month to write it all in).
> 
> Thank you to everyone who read, commented and left kudos! You kept me working on this fic!
> 
> What's next? Well, there's the bang fic. There's the wedding chapter for Comes Love Prompts and I need to finish Ghost (I haven't forgotten about, I promise!) After that I hope to tackle the rest of my fic list...


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